As I sit under the blanket of dim stars, Jupiter rising in the East, I am aware of the irony of my position:
I’ve never had the inclination to ingest something for the sole purpose of dreaming. I have never experienced a lack in meaningful dreams, sometimes lucid, other times just enough lucidity to let me know I am dreaming–even if everything else is out of my dream-control. Sometimes I feel I dream too much, and it’s these moments where I seek a tea or herbal that will either prevent dreams from fully materializing or completely erase my memory of having dreamt at all. So why would I actively seek out a means to make me dream when I already do so in vivid color and form?
I honestly have no concrete way of explaining what it is I seek through dreams. Something hiding? Something lost? Something I’ve forgotten? Something I need to learn… This fact is not lost on me: I sometimes don’t even know what it is I seek abstractly, let alone be able to describe this “searching for answers to questions I can’t even formulate” feeling.
But here I sit, outside in the chilly Spring air, sipping hot mugwort tea. While winter tries and tries, fiercely clutching the land in one last silent song, I am willing good omens to come.
I suppose we’ll see what we see.
[featured image courtesy of Wikipedia]