Visions

“I have a real longing to remember my dreams”, I said to my partner this morning, over tea, as she recounted her midnight escapades in ethereal dimensions. I thought I was talking about the REM kind, but now I’m not so sure.

Before I quit my job last year – before I even contemplated quitting my job – my partner had pencilled a theoretical quit date into her calendar. End of summer, she guessed, betting only against herself. A month later, I moved into “contemplation”, and she shared the idea of this date with me. As I was wading through dread and uncertainty, she held a vision of my future that I was not yet ready to hold. When I was ready, she passed this vision over to me. It was always meant to find me, but she was the one who birthed this vision. She held it in her kangaroo pouch while it formed, and when it was strong enough, it leapt from her into me.

A friend of mine holds another vision for my life – one that is still being nurtured in her care. She has held it for the past two years. She can see me sitting at a desk in a seaside cottage. I’m sipping tea, and I’m writing. A book. My book. She tells me that I’m happy in this vision. More than happy. Content. Satisfied. Fulfilled. I feel soothed to know she can see this. As if her belief can manifest this future for me. For now, her belief is the thread that ties this possible future to this world, until I am ready to claim it as my own.

(I hold a vision for her too. One she is not yet ready to hold for herself. One that she can maybe only just see the shadow of, as it starts to take shape in her periphery. A world in which she has freed herself from the obligations that tether her to an out-dated vision of her life. I have pencilled her quit date into my calendar).  

What precious gifts, these visions. More valuable than any material thing. Are they sent from the gods, or glimpses or the future? Are they mirages in the desert? Are they prophecy?

It sometimes feels as if my loved ones can dream bigger for my own life than I can. We are two climbers, side by side, tackling the mountain together. From their vantage point, they can see more than I can. They can see further, and higher up. Sometimes, they can see where I am going better than I can. It’s a matter of perspective.

My partner also holds this writing vision of me. It came to her in a dream. She says we live together in the cottage. I work remotely, a bit, and spend most of my time writing. She spends her days in the garden. When I envision this future, I feel calm.

I have a real longing to remember my dreams. But as I cycle through the natural stages of forgetting, I am comforted to know that my dreams are kept safe. Nurtured and held by my humans, until I am able to dream them for myself.

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[P.S. How does this relate to coaching? Coaches can help you hold your vision. They can help you find your vision, and create your vision, and bring it into being. And if you are not sure what your dreams are, coaching can help you dream again.]