I drift off to sleep... and fall under the surface.
I try to make my limbs move, but they refuse. Tired from the struggle I suppose. I scream at them and my lungs fill with cool water. I realize I'm not gaining speed toward the air, only drifting backward. A calm comes over me and I stop trying to fight. I float carefully down, no bottom in sight. The light continues to dim and I seem to stop moving.
I need air. Somehow, after a sputtering it's as though I took a breath - but realize there's no air in sight and I feel my lungs panic.
I yell to myself - no sound being produced.
WAKE UP! YOU'RE DREAMING! WAKE UP!
I peel my eyes open, barely- scanning the room only long enough to verify that indeed I was not submerged in a watery grave. But they are too heavy to maintain my view. I drift back to sleep, and back into the water. I gasp for breath again and manage to wake enough to roll over.
The dream was gone. Thankfully.
It wasn't exactly a nightmare, but it certainly wasn't pleasant either.
Is this an indication of my current life? That I feel like I'm drowning and trying to fight, but not succeeding? Trying to breathe, but getting a mouthful of water? Finding peace only by letting go?
Is it sad, or scary, or ok?
What am I letting go of? And who's hanging on in my stead? Am I handing it to God, or just... letting go?