A dream

Last night I had an unusual dream.  It was more like an “intellectualized” idea than a story.  When I woke up I pulled it back and considered other facets of it.

It compared the seasons of the year to the grief journey.  Spring was denial.  A feeling of hope, that all is good, and not what reality was trying to tell us.  Summer was anger.  The realization, the waking up to a scorching heat and blazing light.  Fall was bargaining.  A harvesting, a putting aside, reaping the bounty.  Winter was depression.  A scaling back, moving inward and losing hope.

But a redeeming thing about this whole “idea” was that seasons change.  Spring fills us with hope and readies us for Summer.  Summer offers intense productivity for Fall.  Fall prepares us for Winter.  Then in the seemingly barren Winter, Spring arrives again.  Life cycles.

Mother Nature nurturing.  The Earth’s story.


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