A Letter From Self

There it was again. Another dream about me in my other lifetime. And there I was, small again, a kid, and afraid of the old things that used to scare me when I was too scared to defend myself.I remembered the way things were. And I can still smell the old smells, like my Mother’s perfume or how her bedroom used to smell from the makeup and the hairspray she used to use.I don’t smell these things in my dreams. But I know about them(If that makes sense)I remember the smell from a honeysuckle bush which was not altogether bad but nor was this memory altogether good. And, so, it would be safe to say that my childhood went missing for a while. Safe to say that I was missing too. Or safe to say that there are still unresolved demons and unresolved memories, as well as unresolved problems which no longer exist and yes, I have unanswered questions that somehow linger in my later years. I was so many different people in my life and yet, I was rarely myself, at least not when I was around…