All that was left were words

One night this week I woke up from a bad dream. I am one of those people with a pad of paper and pen next to my bed. Sometimes I will write down thoughts that come to mind when I wake in the middle of the night. Other times I will pick up my phone and type away.

This is what I wrote at 4:12 am: (edited only for typos)

I woke up from a bad dream
I thought my bad dream had happened
I thought it was real

As I reviewed the dream I realized none of it had ever happened
Yet it felt so real

It was just a story that was so vivid my body thought it was real
It was just a story I made mean something

When I changed its meaning what I thought was real dropped away
All that was left were words

We can do the same for our stories during the day. We get to decide and make meaning for everything in our life. Does that person frustrate you? Why? What are you making their actions mean for you?

When we take away meaning, all we have left are words.