Two nights ago, I had a dream that has been lingering in my heart. I was aware of myself dreaming, which made it even more compelling. Lucid dreams feel like sacred space.
I was looking into the welcoming brown eyes of a dark-skinned black woman. She was exotic and foreign, and yet her eyes felt familiar. Her smile matched my own as she looked back at me.
As I lifted my hand to brush a stray hair from my eyes, she lifted hers in the direction of her long, thick, intricate braids, and in a flash I knew. She was me! I had been looking in a mirror. I looked down at my hands and they were the deep brown color of the earth.
I was transformed. I was a black woman! I looked back in the mirror. My hair looked tribal. It was thickly braided and woven on the crown of my head, with dreadlocks flowing past my shoulders. It was lovely, artistic, and unfamiliar. My clothes were flowing, with flashes of yellow and red.
Inhabiting her body felt like living inside of a book. I wondered about her story. I wondered about her life.
I stepped back from the mirror intrigued. There was another one to my right, and I moved toward it, curious about what would be reflected. I looked, and she was gone. In her place was the usual me – white, present tense, ordinary me.
I went back to the first mirror. When I looked, the intriguing black woman was back. I felt like myself in my body, but the package I was in was of a different culture and race.
The dream ended there. That was two nights ago, and my thoughts are still drawn back into that mirror. This dream reminded me to see myself in everyone. It reminded me that I am a spiritual being living in a physical body. It reminded me that magnificence dwells in diversity, and that our abundance lives in each other.
(This is a song I wrote about lucid dreaming, with images by my friend Alessandro Della Pietra.)
I was looking into the welcoming brown eyes of a dark-skinned black woman. She was exotic and foreign, and yet her eyes felt familiar. Her smile matched my own as she looked back at me.
As I lifted my hand to brush a stray hair from my eyes, she lifted hers in the direction of her long, thick, intricate braids, and in a flash I knew. She was me! I had been looking in a mirror. I looked down at my hands and they were the deep brown color of the earth.
I was transformed. I was a black woman! I looked back in the mirror. My hair looked tribal. It was thickly braided and woven on the crown of my head, with dreadlocks flowing past my shoulders. It was lovely, artistic, and unfamiliar. My clothes were flowing, with flashes of yellow and red.
Inhabiting her body felt like living inside of a book. I wondered about her story. I wondered about her life.
I stepped back from the mirror intrigued. There was another one to my right, and I moved toward it, curious about what would be reflected. I looked, and she was gone. In her place was the usual me – white, present tense, ordinary me.
I went back to the first mirror. When I looked, the intriguing black woman was back. I felt like myself in my body, but the package I was in was of a different culture and race.
The dream ended there. That was two nights ago, and my thoughts are still drawn back into that mirror. This dream reminded me to see myself in everyone. It reminded me that I am a spiritual being living in a physical body. It reminded me that magnificence dwells in diversity, and that our abundance lives in each other.
(This is a song I wrote about lucid dreaming, with images by my friend Alessandro Della Pietra.)