It’s strange the way grief and memory
weave themselves into our dreams. Time has a habit of bending and breaking, and
sometimes, the answers we seek in the waking world are handed to us, raw and
unfiltered, in our sleep.
From Journal Entry 10/15/2010
It was
only five days after my cousin was murdered by her boyfriend. I was living in a
shockwave, but the dream itself didn't feel like my everyday life. Instead, I
was transported.
I was in ancient Roman times. The
scene was the Colosseum, a place defined by its raw, primal justice. There were
games underway, and I was competing. I wasn’t just a spectator; I was a warrior
in that arena. Even then, my instinct was protective; I felt the fierce
need to guard my friends who were with me in the crowd. And then, I saw him.
The killer. His appearance was different than in the present day, but I knew.
I knew who he was instantly. He was a shadow in the crowd, a parasite in the
perfect order of that ancient place. Our eyes locked. I walked face-to-face
with him. I didn't yell. I didn't attack. I just spoke the truth that was
blazing in my heart.
"I know who you are and what you
did."
That’s when it happened. He
smirked. It wasn't a smile of joy. It was a visual representation of his
own ego. He wanted me to feel a rush of terror. He wanted to feel that he, the
architect of my family’s nightmare, still held power over me. But he was wrong.
In that moment, face to face in the dust of that ancient arena, I didn't
feel intimidated. That single moment of defiance, that absolute refusal
to cower is the most powerful thing I have ever carried with me. It was more
than a dream. It was a spiritual declaration of war. It felt so real, almost
precognitive, like a message that needed to be spoken. I feel like it truly
came through: he thought he got away with it.
The date of my cousin's passing, 10/10/10,
is its own numerical alignment (30 reduces to 3, the number of
truth). It suggests a perfect cycle, a karmic loop. And while that loop began
in tragedy, my dream showed me the end.
That "smirk" was not a
victory lap. It was the false belief of a man who thought he could outrun the
universe. In the Roman arena, the spectators, and the "Gods" see
everything. You can only hide for so long.
My dream taught me that while tragedy
may have taken a life, it cannot take our authority. When you know
the truth, and you stand in it without fear, you strip the villains of their
power.
That smirk didn’t last forever. The
games always end, and the final judgment belongs to a higher place than this
arena. We will always hold the truth and must stand in our truth without fear.