Tag Archives: beach

Dreaming with butterflies

As I’m sitting in the sun a butterfly zips my way and hits me in the back of my head, it’s a surprisingly big thump for such a delicate light insect.

It is night and I am sitting in the sand, I hear the surf close by but I don’t see it. He is here too I can feel it, I don’t see his face but it is him I can feel his smile, although that doesn’t make any sense.

He is right here but I miss him so much it’s painful. He is standing right next to me but I still miss him. And then, there’s the butterfly, again.

A butterfly in the night.

Then I wake and it’s my cat begging for food.


His sister

I had a dream a few nights ago, but I didn’t write it down. Somehow I couldn’t forget it, it’s  . . . strangeness and the connections it gave me to him.

There is a great expanse of nothingness, maybe a cool, dark expanse of sand. A beach in the winter, but without sun and without water but a beach nonetheless. There were are sitting on camp chairs, tied down, next to each other. Me and her, but who is she? I know instantly, although I’ve never seen her and I don’t know how she looks like, I don’t know her voice, the way she moves, I don’t know anything about her but I know it’s her, his sister.

We sit in silence and he appears in between us.

Strange dreams and where to find them

We were at the beach, one that I didn’t recognized. We left the wooden boat on the shore, was I supposed to tie it down?

I was in the kitchen and they were getting a divorce. Why am I here? I hug him and kissed him but I don’t really like him and why on earth is he wearing a suit? The kitchen was dark and modern and all the counter space was taken.

Dreams of Spain

I was in Spain, and with me several people: an old friend from college, and new friends from work. We gathered at my grandmother’s house and load up the car with a cooler full of water and food. We set out to Zahara de los Atunes, I was driving and I had my GPS ready but then something strange happened. The GPS led us astray, and no matter what I did or what I entered, it would never take us to the beach. Finally I noticed, the GPS wouldn’t accept the letter “H” so every time I tried to enter the name on the GPS it wouldn’t accept it.
I remember other details, the first is that the car was not an automatic, the second is that for some reason I was left at my grandmother’s house and he spent all day with my old college friend. An insane jealousy overcame me, and fear, an immense fear of loosing that which was not mine to begin with.

Playing my guitar

Today I dreamed I was on the beach.
Today I dreamed I was on a stage.
Today I dreamed I was playing my guitar.

The sun was shinning down on the beach, the waters were rolling up and down the sand and the early summer breeze blew through my hair. I was there standing in front of a crowd, surrounded by other musicians, guitar in hand. But when I looked down at my guitar the strings were rusted, and my guitar…it looked stained and dull. What happened?

My guitar, my pride and joy, the extension of my soul, my other voice, my solace… Yet, I played, and played, and played…Until this morning.