I have this recurring dream: I’m driving along the sun drenched hills of Highway One in Malibu and it’s the most glorious day. I’m headed north to Santa Barbara to rendezvous with the man of my dreams. When I grow restless behind the wheel, I pull to the side of the road to stretch my legs and walk to my favorite spot: the ledge of the steepest cliff the road has to offer.
After planting my espadrille-flanked feet securely on the very edge of the rocky drop, I inhale the thick, salty ocean air as if my very life depends on it, letting the wind whip my hair and clothes around me. As I toss my head back, I throw my arms open and let the beauty of life wash over me. It’s undeniably my moment.
One that always reminds of the scene in Joe Wright’s “Pride & Prejudice,” when actress Kiera Knightley, who plays Jane Austen’s beloved Elizabeth Bennet, stands at the edge of the most amazing, awe-inspiring cliff with her dress flapping in the wind, contemplating the wonderment of life.
In the dream, though, I’m not wearing an opulent 18th Century dress. I’m in the chicest clothes: a crispy blue and white blouse, roomy buttery-blue slacks and a loose colorful scarf is tied easily around my unruly brown locks. The day is perfect; stunning actually, as the waves crash against the rocks creating the kind of soundtrack only Mother Nature can compose.
I sigh at my good fortune, as I’ve designed my life just as I’ve always wanted it and living it is a blessing. When I’ve had my fill of the seascape, I turn around, walk back to my car and drive off into the warm, golden-hued sunset and then I wake up: peaceful, centered and longing to make my dream a reality.
I’ve written of this very moment before in my blog, “The Elegant Espadrille,” when the aforementioned dream used to be somewhat of a fantasy. For whatever reason over the past year, it’s sunk its way into my psyche and now visits me on a regular basis in my most vulnerable unconscious state: while I’m sleeping.
I’m glad for my new recurring dream because my old one was incredibly haunting: a nightly torment of me vomiting thousands and thousands of black butterflies. For a solid year, I woke up screaming and clutching my mouth and stomach. The dream was so disturbing, I sought the help of a professional dream analyst to help me make sense of it.
She quickly reassured me that black butterflies were a symbol of good luck and a sign of deep and profound transformation. Man, was she right. If you’re a regular blog reader, you already know about most of the events that have unraveled in my life over the past few years: the loss of a child, a horrible illness and a painful divorce. During that time, things weren’t just changing, my entire life toppled over and yes, I transformed. Undoubtedly, for the better.
This year, though, the black butterflies finally flew away and my trek up the golden Pacific Coast Highway took its place. Coincidentally, it was right around the same time that I discovered Maritza Filomena Fernandez, the Founder and Designer of Filomena Fernandez and I had something serendipitously in common, despite never meeting face-to-face.
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