At Home

BY PAMELA JO BOWMAN MESA ARIZONA – I rarely dream. So when I do dream, I often wake up wondering and worrying if who I dreamed about is okay. I am grandiose like that. Hmmm, what am I supposed to do for that person? I try to remember the dream—to see their eyes, pjwis.jpgtheir smile, understand what their message was. I am such a dolt. My dreams are not about others, but about me and what I want to know and understand.

The eyes are the mirror of the soul. Whose soul, if not our own? I look into my eyes through a mirror and … hit a wall. Today, I am not up to facing my soul. I like that I dreamed of you. I saw your eyes and how they looked into mine. You did not hit a wall. You saw my soul. You saw me and I felt at home again. How do you do that? Just seeing you, even in a dream, still makes me smile. How is it that another’s eyes are the mirror to my soul? Even if through a memory or a dream? Do others dream of me as well? Do you feel at home in my eyes? I hope so. Be happy and know no matter what you do or where life takes you, I will dream of you if only to see myself in your eyes.

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