There’s a restlessness in me that defies explanation. It’s not that I am bored – I have any number of creative projects on the go – it’s that I have a sense that I’m missing something, something that lies deep at my core. But what? And how do I access it?
Something that is dormant is not active or growing but has the ability to be active at a later time
I found myself awake most of the night recalling a past trauma. My mind would not let go, retracing the steps, conversations, and events that followed. It’s been almost fifty years since the occurrence, but apparently there is more to examine. Could there be a part of me, buried so deep in that horror, that now wants to emerge?
Something dormant, now stirring…
There’s a story inside that’s trying to take shape. Just random images, really. Maybe it’s related. Think I’ll set some time aside to delve deeper.
In the meantime, this post was inspired by a short story I wrote a few years back for a writing class. Brush Strokes was my response to the topic “dormant”.
(Image my own creation)