I dream about being in Venice more than anywhere else. Yesterday, in real life, I was toying with leading a retreat next year somewhere that is not Venice. Last night, Venice showed up in my dreams. In my very-frequent Venice dreams, I’m usually fighting to get into the city, just outside the gates (there are no gates) and unable to push my way in.
This time, though, I was inside the city, and being presented with places I could live while there. A small apartment in a twisted house, or a whole deck of a boat. It’s as if Venice herself said, we must seduce her back to us.
And Venice, wily courtesan that she is, would do that. She has zero interest in me when I’m just another willing and ready lover, one of many millions over her long reign. But when I turn around and start to look elsewhere, she courts me with dreams that have thinly-veiled hostility as their background music. The theme of the dreams was that even though I might get to stay, I was doing it wrong, as my dreams so often insist.
They say that all the characters in your dreams are you. Venice is a major and frequent character in my dreams, so how is she me? Or how am I her?
Oh, damn, it’s almost too easy, isn’t it? That just took thirty seconds of thought. My dreams are never clever. They’re often complex, but when I take the time to look at them, they’re obvious. Tsunamis mean I’m scared that I’m not in control. Packing for the airport while running late means I’m trying to do too much with too little time.
Venice dreams, when I either can’t get in or can’t stay is obvious, too: The cherished, valuable, beautiful center of myself—the one that I want desperately to believe in and to experience—either hides away or chucks me out. I’m not worthy.
Honestly, I don’t think I’m worthy of Venice. Who is? Beyonce and Lizzo and Audrey Hepburn and Cleopatra. Perhaps.
But I am worthy of hanging out in the beautiful center of myself. I’m worthy of seeing its lights and sparks reflected back to me in the water. To myself, in this body, I am Venice. I hold all the sparkle and when fireworks go off over the water, I’m magnificent, and worthy.
I love this so hard. xo
La Serenissima is calling you. You “must” go back for both of us. Hoping for a new blog post soon. Really miss the old days. Hope all is well.
Been offline for a much-needed break, but this was one of the first things I read when I came back. Haven’t braved social media yet, but was missing my Rachael fix – and this is lovely. Have you considered setting a book in Venice? Your love for it is so deep and over such a long time, and you share it in your other writings and by (historically) hosting your retreats there. I’d love to go along with your characters in exploring the city and remembering my own travels there… XOXO, Erin
Definitely yes, yes, yes Rachael! A book set in Venice would be awesome!