First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 5 – Hope

Stored too in the cave are the moments of memory that define who I am. Moments apart from the layers of doubt and uncertainty which can surround me. Moments which are my essence and which stand apart from transitory external circumstances which create the illusion of a different truth.

I do well to store these moments, not in the deepest recesses of the cave, but in a place where they can catch the light, where the light can reflect off them and brighten the dullest days.

This light which, coming from the past, provides the beacon to guide me forward. A beacon lighting up the dream needed to draw me on, giving me direction and guidance, providing the measure which guides every day.

These moments of memory form part of the hope without which the dream would always be unavailable: they are the fleeting images of a different future. But these moments allow me to define a future, a future which, for today, may form only part of my dreams.

We all have our own memories of this sort. In my cave they include,

The morning after the night when I had retired to bed devoid of hope, fully believing that I could not go forward. And yet I woke up totally at peace with the world. I thought I had done nothing, but in fact I had surrendered.

The moment when, having thought I could get away with something, that nobody would know, I realised that I would know and I went back and corrected it.

A lady who was in this world for far too short a time but whose legacy to me is a knowledge that I cannot forget, that I’d not know had we not met. The knowledge that I was capable of loving and being loved in return.

A moment too, one specific moment of forgiveness which reached deep inside my soul, took a harbored, secret cache of guilt, exorcised it and left me free to grow.

We are all possessors of these moments. They may come in many different forms: an unexpected hug, a word of kindness, a word of gratitude. Moments when we have been touched or have touched others. As you search the cave, as you clear the debris, you will find them. Bring them out into the light, they will provide the means to take you forward.


 As always  –  if you prefer to listen rather than read   –


14 Responses to “First I Dreamt the Journey – Part 5 – Hope”

  1. This is very beautiful, and sad too, because of your great loss.
    To know you can love and be loved, to know what is the right thing to do. It is all in ourselves but others can bring it out. I think that is what I learn here.
    Thanks for sharing such loving thoughts with your readers!

    • belfastdavid Says:

      Thank you Ina,

      It is in our interactions with others that we learn. And it is in our memories of others that they live on – I have a poem about that – it is in my latest book – I will post it here presently 🙂

  2. what meaningful pages of the book these are, David.

    Your words read like music, a collection of notes which you have arranged into a gentle symphony of reassurance.

    It is truely wonderful to be able love and to be loved, feelings which I only became aware of in recovery.

    You have made the beacon that is alight here readily accessible; all I have to do is listen to the music.

    • belfastdavid Says:

      Thank you Christine,

      What a lovely comment.

      Too often we focus on the negative, and by doing so re-inforce our negative feelings about ourselves. The good things are there too – we just have to look. 🙂

      You continue to listen to the music 🙂

    • Can’t go off to Ireland without this:-

      Lots of love

      Christine (back soon x)


  3. I feel this so much David i cannot tell you the caves i am clearing ….another wonderful piece

  4. gave me chills … a very emotive exploration.

    • belfastdavid Says:

      Thank you Eileen,

      I am always fascinated by reactions to my words. For me the writing of this was a very worthwhile experience – even with the pain.

  5. Hi David,

    Sorry to be so late to your blogs of recent…I’m floating in the distance looking on, just not so good at forming my words lately. 🙂

    Part five for me is quite an emotional read. I see this section in part of the cave where part of the roof has collapsed and there is a small pocket of light illuminating all those memories that leave us grateful.

    Hope certainly reminds me of the pain of the journey, but also too those individuals and experiances that left me stronger to want to see another day.

    It reminds me how grateful I am that you are here with us to today to share your experiances and share that hope. 🙂
    This leaves slightly girly with a tear in the eye, but knowing and re-affirmed of my own inner strength from my own precious memories.

    Thankyou. 🙂
    I hope your weekend is proving pleasant. We’ve come over all British *cheeky grin* lots of rain…but it is pleasant in its own way. 🙂

    Take good care.

    • belfastdavid Says:

      Hi Tikarma,

      You have no need to apologise for being late to respond. I do understand the vagaries of real life and I do know that you read 🙂

      I am fascinated that you see “a small pocket of light”. That, I think, is the whole essence of what this section is all about. We (or at least me) are so ready to pull out the memories which show us in a bad light and dwell on them. For my own recovery I had to realise that the good memories were there as well and that it was possible for me to draw strength from them. Thank you too for the image of the roof having collapsed – I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you have said it I can see it. 🙂

      In a strange sort of a way I can be grateful too for my past – in the bigger picture it made me who I am today!!

      We were back to snow yesterday!! But it was only a one day phenomonen – back to rain today 🙂

      You take good care too


  6. I finally found some time to catch up on my favorite posts.

    “The morning after the night when I had retired to bed devoid of hope, fully believing that I could not go forward. And yet I woke up totally at peace with the world. I thought I had done nothing, but in fact I had surrendered.

    The moment when, having thought I could get away with something, that nobody would know, I realised that I would know and I went back and corrected it.”

    This is one of my favorite sections of your book. It helped me more than you know, when I needed it most. It isn’t only about recovery. It’s about life, but a lot of life is a form of recovery from what has gone before.

    I do love to listen to you read. Well done on that too, as always.

    I hope Spring is soon beckoning you outside with that camera. It is warm here most days, or comfortable. My snowdrops are blooming. Every time I look at them, I remember how I first heard of them, from you. They are lovely.

    Take care of yourself,

    • belfastdavid Says:

      Good to have you come and visit Shirley,

      I love your phrase “life is a form of recovery from what has gone before” Wonerful!! 🙂

      And I do believe the path of recovery is similar for all of us irrelevant of the starting point.

      I am smiling at the thought of your snowdrops blooming – they may well start to spread and then you will be responsible for snowdrops taking over Georgia 🙂

      You take care of yourself too my friend


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