My Summer Rewind: An Ode to Self-Care 21-“Number 1”

I dreamed I got married a couple of weeks ago. Flanked by groomsmen, I stood in the narthex on the penthouse floor of a swanky hotel which overlooked an unfamiliar city skyline—I think it was a combination of Atlanta and New York. My friends traded lighthearted barbs to take the load off my anxiety; they were aware of what I have endured to get to the moment.

Before the ceremony proceeded, my bride-to-be, Kelis, began to argue with me. The urban legend “it’s bad luck to for the bride and groom to see each other” loomed in the back of my mind. I took the disagreement as an indication our marriage was doomed. If we couldn’t make it down the aisle without a moment of hostility, perhaps Kelis and I were not a good fit; we might as well save ourselves the drama and its subsequent trauma.

I walked away from my tribe of support to gather myself. As I looked out of the window, towards the sunset over the city, I felt two hands pat and grab me on each of my shoulders. It was my best man, Nas, who did not take off his shades to impart wisdom. He told me to ignore what happened, Kelis was anxious and scared how things could or would turn out between us; she felt the weight of both of our experiences and I needed to let it go.

“She’s the one, God…you two were meant for each other,” God’s Son said in a soft tone. I gathered myself and headed down the aisle. Nas understood me; one of many reasons he was my best man.

I had a conversation with my daughter a few hours after I woke up.  Cydney told me she had a weird dream. In an effort of transparency, I shared with my nine-year old I had one as well, and I got married in it.

“You? Getting married?” Cydney said and began to laugh out loud, at me. I asked her “What is so funny about me getting married?!”

“I just don’t see it. Like I know it could happen; but I don’t know you to be with someone or wanting to get married,” Cyd explained as she still chuckled. I told my little girl “I’d like to get married one day.”

Cydney paused for a moment and said “I don’t know if I’d want you to get married. I like it being just the two of us.” After of reflection, Cydney said “Then again, I would want you to get married.”

A few days later, a college friend, Acasia sent me an email with details of a second dream she had about me. Weeks earlier, she had a dream about an experience she-nor anyone-would know about because I had not shared them with anyone. She was days away from giving birth to her second daughter and took a little time to share. Given her current state, track record, and our friendship, I took what Acasia had to say seriously.

Acasia wrote she had a dream I was engaged or getting ready to get married. My bride-to-be was a “baddie,” tall (or had a regal/stately presence), gorgeous, brown-skinned, and was the mother of a five-to-eight-year-old little girl who had the same complexion. Acasia was not aware of her circumstances as a single mother; nonetheless, my friend was happy for me as I embarked on a “beautiful new chapter in your incredible story.” In my reply to my friend, I wrote I had a similar dream a few days prior.

I believe in the power of dreams, especially when they were visions from an outside party. Timile told me about two of hers when we first began to date. The first revolved around the conflict and secret which began when she was a baby.  Her husband cried beside her deathbed in the second. Both came true. Acasia’s had a similar vibe.

At the current time, there is no special someone in my life, or prospects. However, it felt nice for it to temporarily exist. To visualize a partnership for myself is great. But if I were to be honest with myself, I don’t feel ready yet. However, I do believe my current season is one of transition. As I have continued to write, subdued thoughts and feelings have surfaced.

The more I write these passages, the longer each one takes to complete. When I first started, it was a means to put thoughts-to-page and exercise a series of “muscles” I have not in some time, for around 45 minutes a day. The more I have written, the more I seem to experience. It created this perpetual loop of stimuli I have processed, and it others thoughts and memories surface. I don’t think the dreams and conversations in this particular passage would have occurred otherwise.

I guess the best thing to say after all these words are thank you Acasia, for sharing.

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