when Hillary visits my dreams

imageAs a mother of three, I don’t sleep much. I also *should* be using a CPAP machine but that is a confession for another post. Few hours of sleep means dreams are few and far between.

I have only in the last 2 years begun analyzing my dreams with my therapists. Freud’s theories on dream were enlightening and have helped me greatly in understanding the inner workings of my unconscious.

Most of the winter, I dreamt of Canada Geese. Broken ones. Angry ones. Dirty ones. I somehow began reading Mary Oliver again. Then, through On Being with Krista Tippett’s Poetry Project, I spent an hour long commute with Oliver and Tippett. And she read Wild Geese.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

These geese in my dreams, I am them. Broken. Angry. Dirty.

Since the disaster of last U.S. presidential election, Ms Rodham Clinton has made a few appearances in my dreams. She speaks softly. She wipes away my tears. She is all done up as she was at campaign rallies. Crisp pant suit, hair sprayed to a halt and perfect make up. Often time she is still Secretary of State. Other times she is president. And I am there with her. And she loves me. I gather this has little to do with Hillary Clinton. Aside from the admiration I still hold for her determination, her intelligence and her great support for intersectionality. Aside from the slight ressemblance to one of my profs. I know this is about me. I am HRC! She is me.

The strong female spirit I see in Ms Clinton is one I wish to unleash for myself. Let the geese fly away and migrate out of the unconscious; into the conscious. Take hold of the tissue and wipe away my own tears. Use a soft voice to care and address myself instead of the harsh critical superego. She is an amalgamation of the geese flying alongside me through this journey. My school mates and my professors. The ones that have no doubt in my abilities. The ones who have buoyed me through the last few years, wings spread wide, keeping a safe space under them. Those who have helped me believe I could because I am.

The power of women allies is stronger than ever. The role I play in other’s lives is a privilege I may take for granted. At times, we must move aside so the light can shine on another sister. It is a very bright light and changing position will not take it away. The greater light and awareness is shed on all female is a step toward a brighter future for our daughters and sons.

Along Hillary and Mary I listen to the geese, announce my and your place in the family of things. I vow to listen to your despairs, yours, and I will tell you mine. I will fly high and head home again! The future IS female.

 

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “when Hillary visits my dreams

  1. Melanie – did you know that when geese are flying in their V formation, the further back a bird is, the easier it is to fly because of the slipstream from the birds ahead. When the lead bird is tired, s/he drops back to the rear, where s/he can almost coast. The rest of the birds, all of whom have benefitted from the leader’s slipstream, now create the slipstream that allows the leader to recuperate. And gradually, they all take their turn moving up again. Think on that!

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