bed-weather wednesday

But I was up early enough to not feel hurried through the morning.

And so far my pace is quite agreeable. 

I am discovering new depths of joy from working with watercolor, dip pens, and ink:

Not to mention that I am absolutely loving my return to the good ol' filofax. Updated with chronodex scheduling and inspired by John Winchester's demon and monster diary. I love the flexibility of adding and removing pages as well as rearranging them. 

I am way behind my word targets for NaNoWriMo but I remain optimistic. This year's novel has been harder to shape than the first and I admit there have been too many distractions and causes of dismay (i.e. Dayjob).

I have gotten around to printing inspirational pegs for my art-making, something that has been on my to-do list for ages.

Being focused and centered, even for the things that you sorely, desperately want and love, can be a challenge in the midst of daily demands that chip away at your strength and resolve. What has been helping me through is writing. I write when I am shaken and I write when I am lost. Somehow the words help me find my way again even if it is only as far as the next tiny step. Sometimes the writing simply helps me stay afloat on the worst of days, either days of raging storms or days of death-like stillness. Between the two the stillness is the more unnerving, when nothing seems to move and you even begin to doubt if the world still breathes. I write through it all, carving paths through the emptiness, holding up the oft-flickering flame of hope that keeps my own heart alive.

sometimes all I can do is help the energies along and hope for the best

So I finally got around to putting together this little wish/dream/vision altar which will be my daily reminder and focus aid.

I really want to make the most of my life and to live it meaningfully and part of that is going to the UK. London first, and then the rest of it.

It's a rather long and complex story why I am so drawn to Great Britain and I am certain I have not yet even figured out half of it.

In any case here is my simplified physical manifestation of my wish/dream.

That giant cup in the middle has my London savings fund. When it overflows I will transfer it into the home safe.

I try not to think of the logical hows. Instead I encourage myself to see the magical twists and turns that often lead to dreams coming true. I've done it once before. I know I can do it again.

midyear review

Come with a whoop,and come with a call.
Come with a whole heart or not at all.
(Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I am on my third year of being independent from employed work. It has been a very rough road but every time I look back, even though there are a few tweaks I would like to have done, I never ever regretted the move to resign from a very lucrative employment.

Whenever I look back, what stand out are the shining moments of my rediscovery of my passions. The first time I painted after more than two decades. The first time I wrote a novel. The first time I acknowledged how much I love writing, reading, and making art after many years of believing that they were dispensable hobbies next to the career that everyone measured me with.

Last year the solo work got to a point that I was desperate. I was in danger of losing my home because I had missed payments. There were no projects for more than six months. I wished for a job.

This year the job came. And so did the projects. And I found myself in a quandary. But in the end I chose to be true to what I have become.

It sounds crazy. A steady, most likely very fat, paycheck given up for a continued life of financial roulette. All I had to do was say yes. But I said no.

It was not an easy decision. But my heart has been more vocal since I started on this particular journey and it would not give me peace. My mind came up with exquisite arguments, logical explanations of the hows which, I have always been told, should be left in the hands of the Universe. Logic can only take me so far. In the end, will I be happy? Will I wake up in the morning with optimism or with dread? Will I risk the joyful creative life I have started to build for a life that satisfied only the expectations of others?

At the hardest point of my contemplation, Neil Gaiman's The Ocean At The End Of The Lane presented itself like a sign. It had completely slipped my mind that it would be out already, and I stumbled into it on the way to a client meeting. A beacon amidst the turmoil of my own thoughts.

"How can you be happy in this world? You have a hole in your heart. You have a gateway inside you to lands beyond the world you know. They will call you, as you grow. There can never be a time when you forget them, when you are not, in your heart, questing after something you cannot have, something you cannot even properly imagine, the lack of which will spoil your sleep and your day and your life, until you close your eyes for the final time...you will die with a hole inside you, and you will wail and curse at a life ill-lived." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

The Year of True Paths is halfway through. After finally making that crucial decision I need to make a plan. Solid enough so I will be true to myself in the daily choices I make, loose enough to allow for the playful storytelling of the Universe. For instance, London. I know I want, I need, to be there. The how is not clear, but I can do my part every day in little ways. London is my love story now. Each day is a step closer to a happily ever after.

"...so I turned, randomly, down another road, and took a left, and a right. It was only then that I realized where I was going, where I had been going all along, and I grimaced at my own foolishness." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I heard it said, "When two points are destined to touch, even if a direct connection is impossible, the Universe will always find a way."

My heart tells me it is only a matter of time. And what of time? There is plenty. There is always enough. It is always perfect.

spilled

This homemade video spilled out of me today. I have been in a strange mood for the past few weeks, inundated by too much work and besieged by dreams.

The images in the video are approximations of what I see playing in my head. I hope to capture it better when I have the time after all the madness of this month.

The music I used is by A Fine Frenzy, a song titled "Swan Song".

blue

i dream of the blue sea

a blue box that is bigger on the inside

the blue-ness of turquoise

the blue feeling of wanting to go somewhere

a handful of blueberries

that movie called blueberry nights

a blue sky streaked with gray

blue ink spilling like tears

the blue in the english flag

waking up that blue feeling again

the Doctor's blue suit

my tattered blue shoes

something blue to go with the old and the borrowed and the new

s.h.

captured into words on 2 July 2013, while settling into bed for sleep

do more happy

Yes, yes, I should be working not sneaking another blog post.

But this particular project I am working on has been triggering all my inner alarms. It has even led me directly into an old Evernote entry where I made a first attempt to craft my Life Purpose according to Jack Canfield's Success Principles plus a host of other inspirational books.

My first attempt was true but trying too hard. It was unwieldy.

This time's attempt is clearer and it gave me that feeling of rightness.

And here it is : MY PURPOSE IS TO USE MY CREATIVITY AND IMAGINATION TO INSPIRE PEOPLE WITH STORIES AND IMAGES IN ORDER TO ENCOURAGE AN AUTHENTIC LIFE LIVED WITH MEANING AND MAGIC.

And you know what, it starts with the very example of my own life. Which brings me back as to why my inner alarms were sounding so loud. The path that I have been considering is not one that makes me feel happy or fulfilled. My logical mind can argue for its financial benefits but not much else. There is admirable leadership within that path but the day-to-day realities that will impact most on myself, my sanity, my purpose, are where the not-too-happy feeling is coming from.

A dear friend called me up from Indonesia the other day and she has given me a lot of good advice to think about. But one important thing she made me realize is appreciation for the amazingness that is my life right now. It may not pass social standards of a typical successful life but it does pass for the many people who have expressed their desire to be able to do what I did -- to take the captain's wheel of my life and navigate it through a temperamental sea. To be willing to throw so many things overboard. To leave the safe harbor.

It has not been an easy journey. I will admit that there were many many times I considered heading back to shore. 

But then every morning there is a beautiful sun that rises from the horizon, turning the water around me into gold.

what i want

But I have had to do a lot of errands and work even over the weekend. I did manage to read and finish Why We Broke Up (third book from top of pile) but felt so horribly guilty and stressed afterwards because I read instead of working. I hated the feeling.

Hence I worked all Sunday, only pausing to celebrate Father's Day with my family, and I secretly envied everyone I saw in the restaurant and in the mall because they did not have to go home to work.

I was feeling so low that I could not even appreciate the books in the book shops, nor was I in the mood for any indulgent snack. The work kept bouncing around in my head and I was busy convincing myself that I would get it done.

I did buy myself a little something to remind me of why I got myself into this bit of a mess in the first place, and at the same time also to remind me of the resolutions I have come to in the past four days. I dug up an old Evernote post and everything was there, all the answers I have been looking for.

"To be 'on purpose' means you're doing what you love to do, doing what you're good at and accomplishing what's important to you. When you truly are on purpose, the people, resources, and opportunities you need naturally gravitate toward you." (Jack Canfield)

"Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary." (Steve Jobs)

My dream of London is as big and as strong as ever. But there are many ways and many paths to get there. It does not have to be a sacrifice, or a costly trade-off of time and passion and joy. The obvious most logical choice does not always mean the only way or the best way. There are off-beaten paths. There are paths behind wardrobes. There are possibilities inside blue boxes.

the infinite stuff

There is no lack. The gifts of the universe are limitless. Be grateful. Know what you want. Be the best you can be. Be authentic. Be true to your passions. What is yours will come to you if you truly believe. Have faith. Life is always good. Be patient. Follow your true path. Find your North Star.

a sunday cat, and some sunday thoughts

I have been trying to get myself to work since this morning. So far I have ended up writing pieces that had nothing to do with work, and watching the last episode of Downton Abbey, and reading a book.

It is impossible to work on a Sunday. One can feel the holiday-ness of it. Even the sun is a certain shade of gold that meant Rest and Play.

I thought I have not made any art for weeks so I took out my little Moleskine plain notebook and made this:

I was hoping it would get me energized to work. It didn't. Why do I even bother to try to work in the first place? I think I feel guilty for being sick last Friday and not being able to work at all.

I also do not trust my immense capacity to:

Work pains me. At least the kind of work that takes me away from the writing I want to do and the art I want to make. It would not have been so bad if it were simple work, nothing that taxed me to the point of exhaustion. But the nature of my day-job demands a lot of mental effort, and mental effort is exhausting. I also have to exert extra effort to make up for my lukewarm heart.

I am reading this book on the science of success and I can understand perfectly what it is trying to say but as simple as it sounds, it is very difficult to practice. My mind is a noisy babble of anxiety and impatience that possibly slows me down towards the life I want.

I must not be distracted. The day-job is a means to an end. I must be careful not to get trapped as if it is an end in itself. I was in that cage once. I must never get caught again.

"Play your roles, but KNOW that they are NOT YOU." - Joseph Campbell

sick day and introverted musings

I have been under the weather all day yesterday. I suspect an intense stress and anxiety attack as the main cause. Things at work are rather stirred up at the moment and important decisions have to be made.

In the middle of all this I found myself thinking about a bit of a revamp for this blog. Maybe it's my way of coping with all the other matters that demanded for my time and attention. I am also feeling that familiar itch to lock myself up in a room for days and write my books without interruption.

It is Saturday and I will have to get some work tasks done. Then tonight I might be stepping out a bit to visit a friend whose father had just died. If events unfold as planned I might also end up telling another person how much I had been hurt by his behavior weeks ago and for which I have hardly forgiven him.

Yes, it is most likely too much anxiety and stress that is getting me all sick and tired in every sense of the words.

I am reading this book :

It is written by Sophia Dembling and it caught my attention while I was browsing in the bookstore last Thursday.  It is easy to read and very uplifting for an introvert like me.

I like the chapter that discusses friendship:

"What is a friend? We probably all have out own definitions. For me, it's someone I don't feel alone with. Who doesn't bore me. Whose life I connect with and who takes reciprocal interest in my life. It's someone I feel comfortable turning to when I need to be talked off the ledge, and for whom I am glad to return the favor."

"Once we start investing in a friendship, we start weighing what we get back. It's a make-or-break time. And for introverts, the investment can feel costly in terms of energy expended. It's the points when we start asking, 'why bother?' --- a legitimate question, as long as it's treated as a question rather than a blow off. Is this person willing to see you, and fun to be with, one-on-one? Does the conversation flow? Is it satisfying? Do you feel energized or depleted after time with this person? I love friendships where the conversation is so interesting, you can't end it even when the visit is supposed to be over."

Sometimes I feel I could use a couple more people who could be real friends. I could relate when my sister moans her lack of a girlfriend posse. We both dream of a constant group of four to five girls sharing the same values and overlapping some interests. The values are important. We could like totally different music but having the same values mean we agree on the things that matter -- in our case those would include compassion for animals and care for nature, reciprocity and responsiveness in relationships, respect for religious beliefs, just to name a few.

I am an introvert who is rather pained by the fact that I have to survive in the world of advertising. I am writing myself a whole notebook on the subject to sort it out and maybe find something that could ease me through until the time that I could fully focus on my book-writing and art-making. I don't want t spend days of my life just gritting my teeth through "shoulds" and "musts" until I could literally afford to be simply a writer and an artist.

Sometimes I feel like the effort will kill me. Pushing myself to be the kind of person everyone expects and then be the kind of person I really am. It's a tightrope walk without a net.

I promise to be brighter soon.

cloudy, with a chance of a blue box

First, the weather report.

And then a piece of doggerel. Just because I am trying to calm myself from the excitement of a day off today.

I'm having a day off because I did not sleep for more than 24 hours the other night. Hence I need to take it slow and let the rest of me catch up. Before that I have been working nonstop for every day of the past two weeks. So much that I did not get to complete my April Camp NaNoWriMo

I also did a pretty good client presentation yesterday and I believe I deserve the treat of a time off.

And then things are starting to move again. Two job opportunities waiting in the wings. And I could not help remembering that astrological reading I got in India and the memory of which has become garbled through the years. Because a there is a hint of it popping up again. And after so many false alarms I am inclined to just let this one do its parade and then ignore it.

Meanwhile I am going to clean out my closet, and then my kitchen cabinets. I feel like a good summer cleaning.

I had a nightmare last night.

So today I will be deliberately seeking out positive and pleasant thoughts and things.

I would have much preferred dreaming about the Weeping Angels than what I actually dreamed. Which was standing in front of my clients about to start on a presentation and realizing at the last minute that the presentation was only halfway done because I had a false memory that it was already done. And all the time I thought it was happening for real. And it stretched on for a while, very long minutes of trying to figure out how to fix everything and not being able to come up with a good enough idea to save myself. Being whisked away by the Tardis would have been perfect then but I did not know it was a dream. It felt like the end of days, the end of a world, and it was so frustrating.

Needless to say I woke up feeling not well-rested. :(

So today I will endeavor to make that particular nightmare not come true and to layer it over with bright happy things.

I could use some cheering and cheering up.

Enough of Just Dreaming

I am Making Plans.

My target is to go to London within the next two years. Possibly the most expensive travel destination I dare dream of. Even friends who have "done" Europe rarely venture into England. But for me, London is my bull's eye. I don't care much for Paris. My heart is striped with the Union Jack.

No, it is not just because of Sherlock with whom I have been getting thoroughly crazy about in the past few days. But ever since I was a teenager I have been drawn to London, I can't remember now why but I do remember that while my classmates wanted to go to America, I wanted to go to England. Layer that with all the great books I have read that were set in it, especially the magical ones. The best authors are English, in my opinion. Layer that with my natural predilection for British bands. Layer that with my devotion to Neil Gaiman.

I have zero savings yet for this trip but I intend to start one...now. With a hundred pesos. A symbolic start. I will assign a jar for it. Then every time it gets filled I will put it in the bank - I have a separate savings account that I opened just for this purpose, for saving up for big things.

I will convert one of my walls into a planning wall. A giant vision board. A constant daily reminder of where I am going.

I can't say what triggered me into action. It is probably the Time for it to start happening. A critical mass of events and situations finally set things into motion. Many Signs have been lit. Messages have been sent by the universe in myriad forms.

That new Suede song "It Starts And Ends With You", I am finally beginning to understand why it called out to me and tugged at me the very first time I heard it, what it means for me now, why it is the theme song that hums beneath this big adventure.

Full circles. Re-integration into wholes. True Paths.

Instructions

by Neil Gaiman

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never

saw before.

Say "please" before you open the latch,

go through,

walk down the path.

A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted

front door,

as a knocker,

do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.

Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat

nothing.

However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,

feed it.

If it tells you that it is dirty,

clean it.

If it cries to you that it hurts,

if you can,

ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the

wild wood.

The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's

realm;

there is another land at the bottom of it.

If you turn around here,

you can walk back, safely;

you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the

wood.

The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-

growth.

Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She

may ask for something;

give it to her. She

will point the way to the castle.

Inside it are three princesses.

Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.

In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve

months sit about a fire,

warming their feet, exchanging tales.

They may do favors for you, if you are polite.

You may pick strawberries in December's frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where

you are going.

The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferry-

man will take you.

(The answer to his question is this:

If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to

leave the boat.

Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.

Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that

witches are often betrayed by their appetites;

dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;

hearts can be well-hidden,

and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister.

Know that diamonds and roses

are as uncomfortable when they tumble from

one's lips as toads and frogs:

colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.

Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.

Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped

to help you in their turn.

Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.

Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.

Do not forget your manners.

Do not look back.

Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).

Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).

Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is

why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the place your

journey started,

you will recognize it, although it will seem

much smaller than you remember.

Walk up the path, and through the garden gate

you never saw before but once.

And then go home. Or make a home.

And rest.

it starts and ends with you

You know that experience when you fall so madly in love with a song and you can't stop playing it over and over again and every time it plays it is like the first time you hear it and your heart just explodes all over the place each time and you become just a little bit supernatural, straddling this world and that world where the song is and where a story of your life unfolds like some kind of a fairy tale except you cannot see it clearly yet but you know it's there and that you will get there eventually? It's a song that takes you out of yourself and closer to the place where you have always dreamed to be, as close to kissing the sun without burning, as deep as you dare to dive into the ocean without drowning. All your lethargic dreams are wakened by this song, even the lost ones, the forgotten ones. This song is a call to the core of your spirit. A call to journey and finish what has languished in your life because you became too concerned with what mattered less than what really matters. This song is the anthem to your happily ever after, maybe. If you are brave enough. If you let the song weave the magic through you. You can feel it already. Your body moves of its own accord, your heart beats a rhythm that is familiar and frightening and exhilarating all at the same time, your mind opens up to avenues to thought that were not accessible before. Your soul sings along. If you had special magic glasses you could probably see how the pulsing light of your soul thrums and travels and spreads through the cosmic web, unlocking chapters, touching other sleeping souls, leaving markers. The magic shimmers on your skin (it will call to what is yours), coats the tip of your tongue (be careful what you say), weaves through the veins of your heart (be careful what you wish), and seeps through your dreams at night (find the Dream King).

And I've worn so many faces

Shot my love at fifteen paces

My inheritance is all the thoughts I can't sweep away

I shout out but I just spin faster

I crawl out but my knees are water

I cling on by my nails to the sweet disaster

And I fall to the floor like my strings are cut

Pinch myself but I don't wake up

Spit in the wind 'cause too much is not enough

It starts and ends with you

(Suede, It Starts And Ends With You)

a post on books (with other bits on the side)

Early birthday gifts to myself which I hope to add to before my birthday month ends. Of course it's just another excuse to buy books. I got these on the first day of February. Already finished reading two of them, and re-reading one (Campbell). The Campbell book was also a gift from the Universe because it sharpened my focus in life and in my daily goals. I was actually on the way out when it caught my eye as if it was hollering out at me and waving a flaming torch. And when I held it in my hand I felt that old familiar shiver when a Thing Falls Into Place.

I got Alice's Adventures in Wonderland because... I have never read it in full. Or maybe I have but I can no longer remember.

Sixty-One Nails is an adult urban fantasy that is being compared to Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. By adult I mean that the main character is an adult (a divorced man, actually) instead of a teenager who has all the convenience of only going to school and not worrying about paying the bills and getting food on the table - thereby having all the luxury of time to go off on adventures and fall in love for the first time and discover one's identity. I think there should be more fantasy/other-world stories with adult characters, like the adult versions of the likes of Clockwork Angel, Hunger Games, and Divergent (I love all of these series.) Neil Gaiman does adult fantasies so well, there should be more. Or maybe I just haven't come across them so let me know if you can recommend anything. More urban fantasy type, because there is also enough of the likes of Game Of Thrones and Wheel Of Time (Yes, I'm reading them too).

The novel I'm writing (which I started during last year's NaNoWriMo) has adult characters, set in a land where magic is part of nature, and with the substantial focus on relationships like young adult fantasies but with the complexity of adult concerns and realities, and then situated in the bigger context of saving the world, or a world (aren't they all?) I read somewhere that you must write the book you want to read, so I guess I'm on the right track. I want to discover more of those kinds of books.  Sarah Addison Allen's books are pretty good -- I have read all of them and they often make me cry because they chip away at my jadedness and cynicism. Others that are along similar story-lines tend to be too chick-lit, the crafting itself lacks the pull and impact that Allen is able to put in her stories.

There, I think I have rambled on enough about books. It's just that I caught myself fantasizing this morning over my coffee, that I would love to spend the morning of my birthday browsing for hours in the bookstore, and then coming out with bagfuls of purchase, and then having a late lunch with coffee and dessert with Someone who would probably need to sneak out of the office to do so. Then I would go home and sort through my purchases and maybe paint a little, while I wait for Someone to finish work and then we would have dinner. It could even be home delivery, or I could even cook as my own token for the occasion (it's my birthday AND Valentine's Day, so there) so we could go barefoot and stretch our legs and then just step out again for coffee at McNeighbor.

Yes, that would be just perfect.

P for Valentine

Head over to my art blog and see some of the reasons I've been too busy to post here. I also had two projects approved so I will have less time for the fun stuff. On the other hand, I get to pay my bills. One day, soon, I will pay my bills with money made from the fun stuff.

P for Valentine. Because I will most likely spend that day in my Pajamas. With a Pen, Pencil, or Paintbrush making magic over Paper. Or absorbed in the Pages of a book.

P could also mean Pride, Prejudice, and Pemberley. But such things happening to me will take a bit more magic than I have on hand, even if it is going to be my birthday. Still, it would not hurt to wish.

like ink stains

of missing poems and broken hearts

I have decided to create a new photo album in my Facebook for sharing random poetry. I have hundreds stashed in my hard drive, in my journals, on scraps of paper, and a lot more crawling around my head.

And then some of them are on lovely paper in the possession of those who inspired them, if they have not thrown it away already (possibly accompanied by a shiver of dread.)

In any case, they have always been hidden. My little children. Offsprings of my heart.

Then last night there was this series of events. First, the "dark" side of writing a novel has reared its head. All the memories, angst, emotions I gathered material from are still out in the open, raw and pulsating under daylight. I have not had time to put them away and also I was still editing so I still need them for filling in plot holes. But without the mad dash towards a finish line or meeting word count requirements, there are now spaces for breathing and those raw things in the open started to moan and groan and suddenly I was a vulnerable mess.

Second, I stumbled upon a beautiful photo of a couple I know (on Facebook of course, where everyone gets to craft a dream life) and it was taken specifically for showing off how perfect and in love they are. Regrets for my own past failed loves keened and tried to find dark corners to hide in.

Third, I seem to have lost a poem I had written years ago. It was the only one I ever wrote for one specific person and I could not find it. I started looking for it after I saw the photo because I wanted to read it to soothe myself, to comfort the dis-ease in my own heart. And when I could not find it I was overcome by a feeling of loss so great that I felt I would die in my sleep of a broken heart.

In my desire to find the missing poem I was led into many forgotten files of poetry, both finished and unfinished. They made me weep, as if I died all over again, as if I got un-chosen all over again. After a mighty torrent of tears I quieted down. My eyes were red and swollen I could barely see through them.

This morning I started to organize my poetry, killing off the bad ones, cleaning up the good ones. Then I decided I would share them. Maybe that is what I am meant to do now. Instead of hiding.

Here is a remake version of the missing poem.

On a more positive note, I feel better today. A few ideas were released by the deluge of tears and I am now playing with them, seeing where they could lead me.

what if

I had a rather strange dream last night where a really scary old witch who looked like a moving desiccated malevolent corpse zapped lightning into my heart. Except that the witch was neither a corpse nor malevolent. Instead she was a very old wise woman who wields a lot of wisdom and magic. When I woke up I realized that I was not afraid of her at all but was actually seeking her help. In the dream she healed a group of injured women and a very troubled man who turned out to be my soul mate. Her healing took out his confusion and he recognized me for who I am.

Now what on earth could that dream mean?