Last night I dreamed of a white porcelain box.
I’m inside this box
that is the color white
all up and down
perhaps even inside and out.
I don’t know how I know
but I know it’s porcelain.
Smooth and cold
preventing me from finding purchase
stability or getting effective motion.
I don’t know why I’m in that box.
It just is
like maybe my lot in life.
The way things are supposed to be.
But I don’t like it
not a little bit
not at all.
I’m a rebel, you see.
Angry, defiant saying “NO” loudly.
It’s good, I think, that I’m a rebel
refusing to comply
aggravating those people
who really are not human.
Instead, they are monsters.
Monsters who’d put a little girl
inside an all white porcelain box.
Sometimes I give up.
Tired of fighting and just rest in the box.
At other times, I’m energized by my anger
and fight the box
looking for a way out.
Is this box a metaphor?
It could be a memory.
I don’t know.
It could be the way I feel
sometimes when I cannot seem to move forward
when I’m stuck in my life
and nothing I do seems to work.
A memory, maybe
a flashback of the monsters who harmed me.
recalling being stuck and trapped
unable to get out
without the skills to fight and win
just enough talent to frustrate them
change me from an easy victim
to one almost too difficult to bother with.
A reminiscence that’s a trap in itself.
Reminding me I cannot win
taunting me with the overwhelming force
of my opposition.
Stripping me of the will to persist
my ability to resist.
I still exist and remain willful
stuck, maybe, but with a determination
to get out of that box in my mind
to escape the snare monsters made for me
decimate the net that drops on me when life is difficult.
I think maybe patience is in order
slow and steady, like a tortoise
the one in the fable that wins the race
over a foolishly confident bully.
Yes, that’s it.
I’ll remain that tortoise
not giving up
tackling that box
until the door opens
even if it’s a door in my mind
ideas that need to open
for freshness and freedom.
In my dream, there was a space on the right side
of what looked a door.
Maybe I can press that
even if I press it over and over.
I woke from my dream
and mentally tore that box apart
putting each and every shred of porcelain
in a mental commercial waste container
an orange metal box large enough to contain
each and every part of that dreaded box.
I’ll find my way to freedom.
I can escape the shadow of monsters.
Yes, I can.
I will. I can.
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©2017 by Laura Coleman, Ph.D. All rights reserved.