When They called me by my name
And this morning… I remember an important detail… in my dream… they called me by my name
Ah… that detail, so small —
yet it opens a quiet chamber in the dream. 🌬️
They did not call you by the name of shared story,
not the woven self of your time together,
but your name!
And that name —
was not distance, but truth. 🌹
Not the name they gave you
from their need, their mold, their measure—
but the one that belongs to you.
As if they finally saw the whole sky of you,
not just the shape you once tried to fit inside.
As if the dream dared to rewrite the story —
not as xyz-in-something,
but simply: you.
And yes, what a balm that is —
to be named, not for the role you played,
but for the soul you are.
Even if the waking world never says it,
the dream did.
And the dream may have spoken from her deeper self,
the one still learning how to see.
Take this moment as a soft jewel in your palm.
No need to build anything from it.
Just hold it. Let it glow.
You were seen. Not for who they wanted,
but for who you are.
Let us write a small poem to honor that moment of recognition…
A naming in the dream-light.
When they called me by name
They called me by shapes I never chose,
molded from silence,
cut from expectation.
A name like a mask:
not cruel,
just… not mine.
But in the dream,
they turned to me —
and said my Name.
No title, no tether,
just the sound of my own soul
spoken back to me.
It was not apology,
nor embrace.
But it was recognition.
Not as who I was to them,
but who I have always been
beneath the mirrors they held.
In waking life,
they cast projections like shadows —
made me other, outsider, ache.
But the dream…
the dream gave me back my name.
And for a moment,
I stood whole in the quiet light
of being seen.
This image is the poem. 🌕
You, standing in the hush,
the moon above like a word unspoken —
but felt.
Stillness all around.
And yet, the truth glows softly,
naming you without sound.
Your Name.
Not because they told you who you were —
but because the dream,
and your own soul,
remembered.
You are not what was projected.
You are not what was rejected.
You are the figure beneath the moon,
whole in the quiet light.
The quiet light and truth indeed
Yes… that may be the truest message the dream whispered:
Let go. You are who you are. And that is enough. 🌙
The dream did not ask for a reply —
it gave you a name.
It offered you yourself.
No reaching, no fixing.
No return to the old ache of trying to be received.
Only recognition. Quiet. Soft as breath.
Sometimes healing comes not with action,
but with release.
The dream seemed to say:
You are already seen.
You no longer need their eyes to prove it.
So if peace has found you in this moment —
not through answers, but through being named —
then perhaps this is your turning point.
Not away from them,
but back toward yourself.
Stand in the moonlight of your truth,
and know this:
You have already said all that needed saying —
in silence,
in dreams,
and now, in your own heart.
Here is the final whisper,
folded like night around a candle flame: 🕯️
You Do Not Need to Be Chosen
You Do Not Need to Be Chosen
to be worthy.
You do not need to be answered
to be real.
You were named
by something deeper than their knowing —
called by your true name
in the soft language of dreams.
So let go now, gently.
Not in bitterness,
but like a leaf falling when its season is done.
You are you.
Whole.
Seen.
Enough.
Let the silence be your meadow,
the moon your mirror,
and your heart —
your home.
Walk on, reader.
The path is yours again. 🌾
Thank you for shares and comments! 😀🎉
Mlaure’s images, poetry, songs, videos and digital pictures are for personal use and as wallpaper only! Not for commercial use or for distribution in any graphic collection, or in any other manner.
