Mornings in the van

I’m writing this blog first thing as I woke up because I experienced some extremely vivid dreams that kept me tossing and turning all night. It was never my choice to dream about an ex of mine. The brain does as it pleases, and I simply serve it. I find myself always in a gray area regarding dreams, torn between attributing significant emphasis and meaning to some of them versus accepting the reality that they are just that—dreams. Granted, this isn’t the first time I’ve dreamt about an ex of mine. Funny enough, I don’t have many to think about; I can count them on one hand. I’m not really the type to jump into relationships with just about anybody. To this day, the lifestyle I live makes it very challenging. It’s a sacrifice I think I’ve had to make. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Regardless of whether they are in my life, they played a role—some significant, some very minuscule—and I’m sure I did the same to them. And as Ernest Hemingway said, “Do not travel with anyone you do not love.”