Forever January

“What language do you dream in?”

I paused and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Well,” I breathe out, “usually it’s just English — or no language at all. But sometimes I dream in French. And once — long ago — I had a dream in English, French and Finnish. It was the strangest thing ever — and it has only happened once.”

But yet, just the other night, a new language crept its way into my dreaming state. And I never understood the words that left your nonexistent lips, but voilà. There it was. And there was recognition of the gilded vowels and consonants lifted and danced in the moonlight before dissipating into the foggy, dreamy air.

I search for meaning in the rocks, in the air, in the breeze that shakes me as I walk with my head tilted towards the sun. And I feel so certain it’s there — I’m simply not looking in the right places. Raison d’être waits just around the corner, I’m sure — perhaps waiting to be unlocked in some new language I’ve yet to learn.