A few weeks ago, I woke up abruptly from a dream. It was a very strange dream. It was even stranger that I could actually remember the dream after waking. And I couldn’t get back to sleep for several hours afterwards because I was still thinking about this dream. I don’t really know what to make of this dream. And I haven’t actually told anyone about this dream because I don’t think anyone will understand or care or just think…I don’t know what they will think. Maybe they will think I’m vain or even worse, they will feel pity. I don’t know.
It was me in the dream and I was in the shower and I was feeling very happy, very content, very much at peace. There was no specific thoughts in my head, none in my dream. I was just feeling very contented in my shower and then there was a voice that told me that I was beautiful. Peace and contentedness was shattered and I was then on the floor of the bathroom, upset, not because there was someone in the bathroom watching me shower but because someone told me that I was beautiful. That was what had upset me. And I remember crying and disagreeing with that voice, which was now just on the other side of the bathroom door. I think by then I was beginning to wake up but the final thing the voice said or asked was, didn’t I know how beautiful I was.
And that was when I woke up. That dream played over and over in my head all night or morning which was why I couldn’t get back to sleep for a few hours. The dream was still with me even when I woke up tired and grumpy for work. And it was so real that when I was in the shower that morning, I almost expected a voice to say it again, which was very disconcerting. And as I thought about this dream throughout the day, I realized that no one has ever told me that I was beautiful. I can always rely on my family to tell me if I look pretty in an outfit, but no one has ever actually said that I looked beautiful. And even now, looking into the mirror I have a hard time using that word to describe myself.
I know I look good. I look much better than I did back in my “pre-New Zealand trip planning” days. I’ve lost 30 lbs. And I can see it. I can certainly feel it. I am stronger, and happier. And other people can see it too and I’ve had comments from people about how I smile and laugh more and how I look great. One of my personal trainers says I’m more proportioned now. I love that word. Proportioned. What can you say to that except “Thanks”. But not once have I ever heard the word beautiful. Perhaps it’s an intimate word? Meant to be used by the one who loves you the most? Some would think that this would be your significant other, or your parents, but really the one who loves you the most, isn’t that supposed to be yourself? I know me better than anyone else. I am the only one who can hate me more than anyone else. So it would be me who would love me the most. So why is it so hard for me to call myself beautiful? I think I am rambling now. But it bothered me enough to wake me from my sleep and kept me from falling back to sleep and even after several weeks, I still remember the dream vividly.