Curious questions.
Do you doodle?
Or draw?
Or make patterns on paper?
Does doodling help you think things through?
Make decisions?
Get the creative juices flowing?
Pass time during a meeting?
Last week, I remembered a doodle from more than 10 years ago. It was part of an effort to capture a dream I had for what my work in the church might be. It looks similar to a more recent doodle about 10CAMELS and what this work is shaping into. I was stuck by some of the parallels and also the differences.
I started to write a longer reflection on how dreams change, stay the same, or seemingly come to an end. Quickly realizing those thoughts need more time to simmer. So instead I share a brand-new poem inspired by these dueling doodles.
What It’s Like to Dream Again
©Rebecca Wilson, September 15, 2026
first you’ll spend days, decades even believing your dreaming is done that the possibility of disappointment is stronger than the power of possibility the risk of rejection isn’t worth trying again you’ll learn to exist while holding your breath to appear alive while feeling like death to smile when the lines on your face would rather freeze the right angle to turn so the cracks can’t be seen you’ll teach yourself another language where words have changing implications exhausted a synonym for sad everything become’s possessive reflecting what you no longer have grieving a noun depression a verb hopelessness the preposition tying it all together you’ll stop talking explanation only increases frustration instead you’ll scribble sentences on scraps of paper the back of envelopes from cards not mailed in the margins of books you’ve lost the concentration to read on the surface of the water you’re too afraid to touch you’ll spend birthday money on journals colorful pens with disappearing ink fluorescent erasers that make letters glow in the dark when words fail to express what you think you’ll doodle what you feel pictures of where you’ve been sketches of where you’d like to be you’ll fold these pages in half stuff them in a box at the back of the closet forget all about them one morning looking for a pair of shoes they’ll return to you like confetti falling from the sky shooting stars, rain drops or memories tickling your cheeks like tears you’ll embrace them tenderly though they have the magic to float on their own you’ll review them curiously you’ll remember what you nearly didn’t survive you’ll think, this is what it’s like to dream again then you’ll lay them over your most recent drawing fresh on the desk the overlap similarities almost identical stepping stones lining two distinct paths imagined worlds apart interpreting, deciphering healing, bridging the stream flowing from the road with no beginning to the lake with no end the sign on the bench etched with a name you’ve only recently claimed the purple bucket balancing against a brick well suddenly each image has new meaning you’ll realize, we never do stop dreaming
Invitation to Reflect
Get a piece of paper, a pencil or pen, crayons or markers.
Remember a dream you’ve had or still hold.
Set a timer for 5 minutes (or more if that feels right).
See what arrives on the page.
Water-fully yours, Rebecca
Wow! What an extraordinary capturing of angst in words! And, love the doodles matching. Dream on and on!
Can’t wait to doodle. Wish I had saved all my drawings over the years. I wonder if the dreams of my youth are similar or different than today’s dream? May we all continue to dream.