Reclaiming Baggage

This is a dream I had last night. 

My Soul Mate and I were married. We were so very young – not more than 19, our hearts were filled with joy and possibility and our bodies were as firm and beautiful as our dreams. We lived on a beach resort and played around the lagoon each day watching the other guests paddle and swim about in the cool clear water. Moments were filled in ecstasy as we intermingled our bodies not just in passionate exchange but in every physical experience from eating to building to gardening to creating and expressing. The beauty and power of our bodies grew as we bathed in the sunshine each day and when we lay under the moon each night together, our bodies glowed silver and gold. It was as if the sun and moon nourished us in every passing moment crafting our bodies so lithe it became effortless to climb up power poles and glide along the wires and lines that framed the sky. We had become observers and happily spent each day together flying, climbing, watching and laughing. There was such comfort and safety being so up high together day in and day out. Time didn’t exist and neither did gravity. We floated into the sun and in turn each sunbeam fed the molecules of our bodies and charged their power to enable us to physically do almost anything we chose. 


One day another two people arrived at the resort and began to bathe in our lagoon and sleep near our bed. The couple were the same age as us, looked very similar and familiar, began to partake in similar activities yet seemed completely unaware of our presence. We observed them yet they did not acknowledge us. Then one night, we heard sobbing and got up from our bed and walked out into the common room of the resort. There the young girl stood at the window tearfully watching her boyfriend walking away up the hill with his bag over his back not looking back just forward and up and away. Up close she looked so eerily familiar to both of us and as her partner walked away her face aged right before our very eyes until she looked close to fifty years of age. My Soul Mate comforted her with his long lanky arms that reached around her entire being and gave her hug that made her feel safe and accepted. I searched my memory to find her name – I simply knew I had seen her somewhere in my childhood. She wasn’t me, or my mother or …..then I realised – it was My Daughter. At that moment, I was 19 and she was 50 and there were no maternal bonds between us – just an inkling. 

From that day, My Daughter would accompany My Soul Mate and I on our daily activities up on the wire overlooking the world. Each day we stretched ourselves and climbed higher and discovered more power lines and our daily regime covered kilometres of territory. Below were suburbs and towns and cities that I knew from my childhood and each house and street and centre was slowly being renovated. The exteriors remained the same with new paint, restored and upgraded finishes, landscaping and aesthetics, however the insides were thoroughly remodelled, expanded and transformed. Identity and memory were preserved as each place was renewed, repaired and overhauled. My Soul Mate and My Daughter spent all of their time together and became very close. There was no sexual energy between them however they shared a sixth sense connection that I had no resonance with. I did not feel jealous however I was aware that my husband was increasingly comfortable with another woman. I began to fly along the power lines by myself during the day and places that my memory had no reference for. Adventures flying over higher wires and foreign territory occupied my moments. I began to miss my soul mate and feel anger and fear and grief as I cried many tears on these solo journeys. 

One day I met My Soul Mate and My Daughter on the roof of the resort. They told me that they were meeting BP later that day. I had introduced both of them to BP a few years earlier. She had been a friend of mine who had hurt me terribly earlier that year, betrayed my trust, rejected and insulted me. This memory was a tale I had experienced many times throughout my life. In this particularly “story” I welcomed her into my circle of family and friends when she felt alone, and over time, felt very obligated and responsible for rescuing, counselling and supporting her through many a crisis. BP was going through a nasty divorce with someone who owed my company thousands of dollars. As the company took necessary recovery action, BP held firm to an expectation that our personal relationship would somehow hold her own share of the financial obligation and when I finally stood firm in my Director obligation and valued my company first and didn’t hold her husbands debts, she became angry and nasty and ended the friendship in spite and hate. 

I knew intellectually that my ancient patterns of exchanging love for service were struggling to be appreciated and transformed and had created this experience to support me. We had both played into each other’s patterns and the realisation dawned that my own journey had taken me to a place where I now chose to change the rules of the game. 

I begged My Soul Mate not to meet BP. I asked him why he would not support his wife and associate with a source of her pain. He kissed my forehead and said “Silly girl, there is no pain here, can’t you see the light dancing in the sun right in front of you? I’m not interested in BP. My wish is for you to reclaim this memory just for you.” Winking and blowing a kiss at me in a smile that reconnected our hearts, he jumped from the roof to a distant set of power lines and flew across the hill to set out on an adventure all his own. 

Confused and afraid and still hooked into the loop of indignation, I burst into tears of frustration. My Daughter hugged me and said “Mum, you’re not alone, I’m here. Let’s go and see BP together.” With that, we both slid down the power pole and for the first time in ages, walked up the hill towards the city centre. 

As we walked, My Daughter spoke of her illnesses and her brushes with death and her fears of life and dreams of the future and I saw that she was born a very old woman and was still holding the age of 50 years. I wondered what part I played in her childhood to contribute to her bagg-age. As she reached the top of the hill and climbed through the tiny door of the cottage at the top, and squeezed herself through the exit door on the downward slope, I saw that My Daughter was morphing into the form of my mother and at that moment my heart surged with such love for both of them. 

At the bottom of the hill, a train sat waiting. There was only 1 seat available so My Daughter bid me farewell saying she would be waiting there when I returned. It was then that I remembered that My Daughter, My Soul Mate, My Youngest Son and I had been walking the streets looking for our home and had left bags of belongings under trees and rocks along the streets for safekeeping until we made our way back home again. 

I boarded as it chugged away from the platform finding the one available seat directly in front of BP. She looked so happy to see me and began to chatter endlessly about her job and her life. She had shopping bags filled with gifts and proceeded to give them to me one by one explaining in detail how she found the item, what it meant to her and why she wanted to give it to me. As the train chugged along, it passed places I had previously seen from up high flying over the power lines. My childhood home as a baby in Morningside, then Salisbury, then Mount Isa, Townsville, Gympie, Redcliffe and Ferny Hills. My schools and the houses I knew so well walking past each morning and night in Clontarf, South Townsville and Kedron. As before, all the external homes were in the same location and outlook however with new paint, restoration and upgraded landscaping and aesthetics. I looked around the train to find all my old school friends sat near me. In my memory they have always been 16 yet here in the train they were greying balding wrinkled grandparents. I chatted to their grandchildren who were astounded that I was 19 and yet shared my schoolyard memories with 60 year olds. The train stopped at each house with each of my school friends disembarking, holding the hands of their grandchildren and reclaimed these newly renovated houses one by one. 

After a while, BP and I were the only passengers and the train finally came to a stop transforming into an old French restaurant. I hopped off holding hundreds of shopping bags filled with goodies bestowed upon me by BP. I was met outside the restaurant by My Daughter, My Youngest Son and My Soul Mate and they took handfuls of these gifts from me so BP could hand over even more. Her face was luminous and lined with peace and joy. The pain of the memories melted away and all I felt was overwhelming appreciation for her gifts to me. 

My Daughter, My Youngest Son and My Soul Mate were busily gathering up all these bags plus overturning rocks and looking behind bushes to retrieve other bags they had left there for safekeeping. They reminded me that we were still looking for our home, it was late and we needed shelter before the storm hit. With that they headed off down the street arms loaded with bags. As I gathered up my bags, My Eldest Son came racing out of the restaurant. He hugged me, told me how much he loved me and how proud he was of me as his mother and proceeded to hand over several more bags and waved me goodbye. As I raced down the street in search of the others and home, I felt another surge of overwhelming love for My Eldest Son and felt so incredibly grateful to have him in my life as my son. 

I looked down the street in the dark and not one person could be seen. I woke up wondering how I would ever find the others and home again.