I dream of cicadas

I dream sometimes of the sound cicadas make in the summer. In moments of deepest sleep, I can feel a warm breeze in my hair, and smell the dusty smell of the New Mexican desert. When I wake up, I know I will be at peace.

I am drawn in my dreams to the desert. When we were children, we would go south to Santa Fe, always at the tail end of summer to spend time with my Grandmother’s relatives. My brother and I relegated to sleep on the uncomfortable pull-out couch, my aunt snoring between us. The window would be left open, and in the middle of the night, a warm desert wind would always wake me from my sleep. I could hear the sound of cicadas in the night air, and the stars were bright and clear. During the day, the visits were hectic, filled with cousins and noise, but at night, in those brief moments when I would drift out of sleep, I felt calm. There was a sense of peace that would wash over me and the sound of cicadas would lull me back to sleep.

Since I can remember, I have dreamt about the sounds of cicadas, the warm desert air, and the clear night sky. Sometimes I will go years without dreaming it, but then it reappears, quiet and welcome. There have been times in my life when darkness threatened to overwhelm me, but then at night, I would find comfort in the dream. When I woke, I would feel renewed and knew that all darkness passes. I had cried myself to sleep, and then the cicadas came and everything seemed all right.

It has been years since I dreamt of the New Mexican night, the desert wind and the song of the cicada, but last night I felt it. This morning when I woke, I felt safe and calm and assured. I curled against Michael, and knew that this was the place I was supposed to be.

Sometimes, I have found that the demands of life can intrude on our peace of mind and threaten the strength of soul. Lately I have been feeling pressure from all angles: pressure from work, from family, from school. I have felt lost and have had a hard time letting go of anger. I feel frustration curling around my heart and I want to claw at it and pry it off.

But last night as I went to sleep, I asked for a moment of quiet. Then the cicadas came to sing their song, the night breeze stirred in my hair, and I could smell the dusty desert.

Peace.