volume eighty-eight

i’m only sleeping

There’s a place I visit often in my dreams. It’s covered in shade at all times, so even in the lifeless heat of an inland Australian summer, the canopy provides relief from the rays. The water is cold to the touch, sometimes too cold, regardless of whether it is precisely what you’re craving in the thick, still air that surrounds the long days.

My young skin has not yet learned the art of just jumping in! Going for it! My nerves both feel the temperature and at the same time get the better of me and I lose the courage to leap. I dip my toes over and over and squeal, disturbing the tranquillity. My unblemished, unmarked, unbroken skin covered in my bubblegum pink and yellow swimsuit contrasts the scenery of crowded greens all huddled together in masses, surrounding us to create one big basil-coloured wall. Hints of light poke through, like glitter thrown at my school dance.

It’s not silent. But it is quiet. To one side of me, the sound of skimming rocks (or ones that plop) can be heard as my older sister learns, and Dad by her side coaches her.

Peculiar to see them together. This is how I know it is a dream.

To the other side of me, in the distance, I hear the rush of rapids jumping over rocks and leading the stream towards us where it is nothing more than a crystal clear trickle. 

And I still cannot get in. 

My Dad and sister have long swum and made it to the other side where the bottom cannot be seen, and where they told me through laughs that they saw a snake in the water. They have no fear and have gotten bored and wrinkled, and broken for rock skimming and air drying.

The charcoal-coloured stones beneath my feet are round and smooth. My feet are too small to wrap around them yet, so my head faces down with caution with every step I take. I am now ankle-deep, and I edge a little further in.

A slight breeze, welcome, but gone too soon, rustles the tops of the trees far above and I look up and lose my balance. I catch myself as my gaze peeks down and I see the breeze has created a disco ball coating on the water’s surface momentarily. The reflection of my face comes into focus and then a call from my Dad tells me to get out of the way.

One of the neighbours is coming from the other side of the river and will soon be crossing. There is no bridge, just people with four-wheel drive vehicles made for driving on water. They wave and the blank faces of my two friends in the back seat can be seen. The windows of the car come down and their voices are muted, distorted, mumbles and not words. My memory doesn’t remember how they sounded, what they said, or how they looked. They are just blurs there now. Ghosts in this story.

They continue on, towards the main road. They’ll pass the turn-off to our house on their way. I wonder what Mum is doing up at the house. She has my littlest sister with her, barely a toddler. I bet they are baking treats for our school lunch boxes, and I will know what they are as we begin our climb up the dirt road towards home and the scent wanders down the driveway to greet us.

I don’t want to think about the walk home. It is steep and my little legs cannot keep up with those grown that stay ahead of me. I can never catch up. I will find a large stick, one as tall as me and use it to help me ascend, pretending I am Rafiki, the shaman from my favourite movie, as I hold it.

But for now, I just want to get in the water.

Lovely reader, is there a place you visit often in your dreams?

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I spend many hours a week writing, recording and preparing these love letters for you and it brings me so much joy. I want these to always be free so in order to support my work and keep these coming at no cost, you can:

🧡 forward it to just one friend! just one! telling them you love it, and you think they will too! or share it on your social media if you’re feeling super generous!

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here are three things I struggled with this week:

⌛ Is so much (fun activities) to do and so little time, acceptable?

🌈 You know how people hear you out when you kindly air your frustrations with their lack of pulling their weight, then they acknowledge how things can change and make a promise to do their bit and then they do the exact same thing anyway? I need to stop falling for that.

☀️ Simultaneously so ready to return to Vancouver to cuddle friends and do what is needed to close that chapter, and also trying to live here and enjoy the few weeks I have left here in the Australian sunshine.

here are three blessings from this week:

🌱 Housesitting means starting fresh over and over. It is a cleansing of space, things, and me, every time I move locations. Renewal.

🛝 I feel free. What should have been hurtful news only hurt my ego for a moment. Since, I have been skipping joyously as I move about the house, with butterflies in my chest and tummy and randomly giggling, whispering to myself giddily “I am free!”

🐏 It is ARIES SEASON AND DON’T I FUCKING KNOW IT! The feeeeeeeling is so good!

here are three goals for the coming week:

✌️ Try to stop punishing myself for my past actions, and instead applaud myself for changing.

😌 Starting this week I am giving myself a Digital Sabbath on Sundays. The two things that bring me so much good but also so much addiction will sleep from Saturday evening until Monday morning. Sundays will mean no phone and no laptop. Mondays will be even more refreshing.

🍿 Try to eat all the snack food I purchased for the writing sprint I did on the weekend when I absolutely had eyes bigger than my stomach.

here is something I enjoyed this week: 

💫💫NEW (TO ME) SUBSTACK ALERT!💫💫

The first to land in my inbox after subscribing was this one:

Sunday Sundries: Miley's Back!

from Lee Hulme (it/its) of Inklings from Lee K Hulme.

It's not even a dance anymore it's an explosion of joy and I defy anyone not to feel it!

Um. Wow. Let me start by saying y’all KNOW how I feel bout Miley and this album but this beautiful heartfelt post let me feel it all over again — the heartbreak, the fire, the sadness, the power — like it was the first time. IT GOT ME IN ALL THE FEELS and it was the perfect dissection made by some top-notch writing. 

pics or it didn’t happen:

I love you. I’m so grateful to those who read my substack 🧡 because I really love writing it to you,

LD

xoxo