A Repressed Truth

A path can seem so easily malleable. So easy to bend, fold, yet it will ultimately stay what it started out as in the first place. Our creative minds will tend to think up of our own endings to such paths. Perhaps the world that we live in now created too many paths… and that’s how my mother drove us into a wanted man’s basement.

Coming home from a camping trip was the second best part of the actual experience. It meant loud music blaring from the car speakers and a warm breeze that wafted into the car, intoxicating our senses to the beauties of temporary freedom.

Unfortunately, mother grew mad. With every turn, she got even more lost..and lost..and lost..and lost. Now she’d found a path at some point where we found ourselves in what seemed to be the basement parking lot of a department store until she continued and drove down into a corridor. That corridor was met with a door, just a simple open door that our car just so happened to squeeze into. And so we drove into a home. The basement of a man’s home. Suddenly with the intent to steal or at least the adrenaline most associated with the act of stealing. The car just disappears. We’re in this dimly lit basement, looking around confused until I spot a moving surveillance camera. And I feel danger. I tell my family to be quiet and point to the camera which slowly turns to me in response. I froze, my breath stuck in my throat, I exhale to steady my nerves, ready to find some clues in the basement that may help us escape because now the door was no longer there. As I tiptoe through the room, the surveillance camera shifts to my family. It’s too quiet. It makes me fear that there could be hidden ones too. This one hung openly on the crevice between the wall and the ceiling behind the shadow of the whirling staircase next to it. The floor was carpeted with a white wool and so was the staircase. The staircase interests me because I see a light coming from the top so that’s where I first look. Carefully, I walk up at least two or three steps up and stretch my neck up in an attempt to peak in case anyone came down.

I look over my shoulder slowly expecting to see a line forming behind me..but my family stood there in the corner, scared and so unsure. Something in me felt that the answer had to be upstairs, past the light that leaked through the cracks of that closed door at the top of the staircase..and so I climbed in a trance. The light must have given me hope because I continued on, intent on turning that door knob and finding an escape.

Soon enough, that door had been opened and that world vanished. I woke up to the world I’d been living in for the past 18 years. This dream was just as beautifully haunting as any of my other dreams have been but this one in particular has just as much meaning as my other dreams are. Perhaps I’d felt that my family and I have been in a rut for a while and I’ve been the baby who’s been watching the chaos from the outside. A detachment from the situation allows a clear point A to point B and therefore “clear” solutions. Still, factor in the emotions of a person who lives in the eye of the storm and soon enough what comes of their world is a shadow of foggy mist inconsistent with the way it chooses to reveal it’s answers to us. Then, the choices are…keep still and rot in a dark corner…or sift through the mist for the answers, the escape. Despite the uncertainty, the answer will always be..

Take initiative before the world makes the choice for you. There is much more comfort in knowing you drove your own world rather than to have let it drive you.

Maybe I died, maybe we found a way out. Either way, making a choice is the most important. It is, in fact, the most empowering luxury that we have in a world that limits us. The power of choice…

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