Just Prose to Remember

As I sit here and ponder my next writing, I grow to see a reflection of my past in a mirror that once was foggy. Of all the dreams that I still recall those which occurred early in my life have stuck with me the most. Only now as I stare through my reflection to view the falling spring snow do these dreams form a coherent point.

I began by trying to place a meaning to each dream as a simple form of reference without having to write out each individual story. These simplistic views included alienation, betrayal, heroic deeds, discovery, isolation, and fear. All of these things I experienced throughout my life. Until now, I viewed each dream as its own pillar. Something that stood all by itself and held a unique meaning. Now I know that these dreams, although some telling of future events, were cantilevers that balanced from the frame of self. Those dreams were and are me. They were not some past self or even an alternate self. They were my balance and my most inner character. Within this discovery I may have found more than I was looking for in writing my prose but I found exactly what I needed to complete my story.