Time travel

You can’t change the past.

But you can change how you feel about it. I discovered this almost by accident some years ago, during a meditation.

To be honest the meditation was one where I lost focus fell asleep and started dreaming. The dream was more of a nightmare as I let myself slip into a time of my life I really hate remembering.

My first year at university was the worst year of my life so far. Last year at work came a very close second but at least last year it was only in the professional area of my life that things were hard. My first year at university just about everything was bad.

I found myself in the dream looking down at my eighteen year old self as she sat crosslegged on her bed in the hall of residence, late at night, crying bitterly. Usually when I dream I am the dreamer. This time I was an observer, floating high above my younger self, detached and strangely compassionate. I wanted to communicate with myself and tell myself things would change and I would get through the whole silly mess I was in. I think I tried to touch myself and the figure on the bed looked up. The lights in the room were blazing. I had had a lot of trouble and had begun to be very scared of the dark, though don’t ask what I was scared of. That’s another story. I even slept with the lights on back then.

The weird thing is this was now a lucid dream. I was fully aware I was dreaming and yet, there was something incredibly real about the whole thing. I found I remembered that evening, remembered a comforting presence being in the room, though not being able to hear what was said.

The dream lost focus and I woke up.

I found that I felt totally different about that time; I felt that whether or not I did actually visit and comfort my old self, the comfort had come through. Time and the mind are very odd things.

I’ve done this in waking meditations now. It takes a fair bit of effort to stay focussed and having another person talk one through would surely be a help too.

“You can’t change the past but you can change how you feel about it”

……or perhaps you can change it, subtly.


Earthmother, manqué.


Sometimes I find it hard

To resist the growing urge

To cook for the children,

The ten or twelve I never had,

Or cater for the horde

Of hungry friends that once

Came knocking at mealtimes,

Eager for food or fellowship.

The phantom feet still beat

A path at times to my door,

And wait like patient pets

For recognition and relief.

At times like these, I shiver,

And make vast cauldrons

Of hot and bubbling soup

Massive crumbles and pies,

Roast beef, all the trimmings,

And try not to count

The empty chairs around

My waiting, groaning table.