Chemo. There is such a churning and moving and changing within. It is not comfortable. (It isn’t entirely horrific either.)
A caterpillar goes into a cocoon, and is totally reconfigured by the process of metamorphosis. It’s like that.
Life is entirely altered… and yet “reality” believes it remains the same. Even within the cocoon of chemotherapy, the viewpoint has a new veil. The cocoon shadows what was once so clear. All perspective is shifting. Anticipation mounts.
There will be a vibrant, culminating end to the cocoon. But for now, I sit and watch and listen. I am in the moment with the life that surrounds me. A lot of the normal world appears muffled in the shadows. Perfect.
In the dream, I stood on the red soil atop a huge butte. (I had to google search the word for butte, because I have never said it in my life.) There were no fears, no worries, no issues. Yet, I definitely fell off the side!
I didn’t fall down. I fell up. My body returned to the red ground at the top.
And there was a pun. Kwami said I laughed in my sleep. The whisper jibed, “A colon is a real ass-et!”