my spirit as helicopter
in recent reconnection with my very astute father (he's a therapist and clairvoyant as hell), i have found peace. i had no idea this would seep into my sleeping cycle, but it did.
last night i dreamed a scene wherein i was attending a group therapy session on anxiety. previous to the beginning of the session, my father had asked to see my journal. i quizzed him with my eyes, trepidatious at his reading such secrets. his eyes conveyed that he would do that very thing. i relinquished anyway.
i think every little girl wants her daddy to know her everything.
and then she grows up.
He took my journal and paced the back of the room as people I knew (old students, friends, family) began to flood into this group session. Afterward, my father came up to me as I was sipping punch out of a retro-churchy Styrofoam cup. With a punch stain on my lips, he asked me what all the cross out marks were in my writing. He explained to me that these represent helicopters.
Helicopters, he went on, represent lack of flight. They can only fly so high and are quite limited in their soaring abilities. He indicated that I was feeling tied down, that I needed to find the confidence and spirit to unchain myself.
p.s. i may have purchased an embroidery project yesterday. "Granny-Chic"* here I come.
*i did not invent this term. SHE did.