Seeing is Believing
It was an illusion after all. Why should I have believed what I was seeing?
“But seeing is believing? A voice within me said.
“That’s not true,” I said to myself. Magicians use this kind of trick all of the time. They pull coins from people’s ears. They cut a person in a box in half, and yet that person remains unharmed and whole. I’ve seen countless charades performed to astounded audiences, and yet they are all fake and unreal. So seeing is not believing; one must use logic and knowledge to determine what is real.
But there she stood. The person that I had been wishing for was right there in front of me. This couldn’t be real even though I had hoped and prayed for this day to happen. She had been in my dreams for years and yet, they were dreams. How could this be?
She walked up to me and introduced herself. I said, “You look familiar. I think I know you.”
Her response was, “As I know you.”
“But where did you come from? I asked. “You were just a dream I had. Have we ever really met?”
“Dreams are interesting places,” she replied, “What better place to meet. You are not the first person to meet me there.”
Now I was really confused. What was she talking about? What did she mean, I wasn’t the first.”
She obviously read the confusion on my face. She smiled slightly and said, “I occasionally like to meet the ones I help. It gives them an anchor to stay steady and grounded. It allows them to believe more in themselves and their creativity. It actually makes less work for me as they get weaned.”
Focus, that’s what I tried to do. I needed to picture this woman more clearly and determine where it was that I had seen her. What was it that she did that helped me, as she had said? I closed my eyes and thought. What I saw were reams and reams of paper and on each piece there was writing. The writing on the papers was mine. They were stories I had written, poems that I had shared, and parts of my life that I had put to paper in writing groups.
It was then that I realized who she was. Or at least who she could be. She was my muse. As I opened my eyes, I saw her smile and nod her head.
As she faded away, I heard her say, “Now write.” And she was gone.
She may have been an illusion or just a living dream, but I knew that she did exist, in my mind and in my heart. Believing is not just seeing, but also understanding and accepting what you see. Therefore I continue to dream and write, for I know my muse will be there when I need her.
I would like that dream!