The Sage

Last night, I had a horrible dream. In it, a king cobra chased me around my house. I woke up terrified. This morning, I cleansed the bedroom. I lit sage and put the smoke in every corner whispering a prayer to bring light to the room. 

After reading up on the imagery of dreams, I realized that a snake is the symbol of change. Cobras can symbolize many things, both positive and negative. Clearly, my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Maybe I'm torn, between two worlds, the literary and the logical, between writing and the pragmatic life, and it's hard to change. It is easier to remain static.

But what if my purpose is passing me by? What if I miss my moment? If I had mere moments left, or days or a year, what would I want? I know this all seems a bit dramatic, all from a dream you might say with a head shake, but I believe in signs. 

There are times when I was writing my longer memoir when I wanted to give up. Then something would happen to remind me what I was working for. I would hear my father's voice in my head, urging me on. "You can do it Jenny..."

And I know I can. I'm a girl who can move mountains with a pen, and a flick in the air of her hand, and the furrow on her brow as she wishes change into being.