Bear with me -- this is a new thought.

The greys and blacks of life are something that I am familiar with. In my mind, this seems strange in hindsight. Ever since I was small, I've felt like someone who, to put it poetically, dreams in color. I feel that color, excitement, a starry-eyed approach to life, and imaginaton are my guideposts as a person. But the last little while of my life seems to have been marked by a descent of greyness on my life and dreams. My days stopped holding excitement in favor of bleakness. My dreams not only became grey, but actually ceased to come at all. This greyness was dishearteningly pervasive, and I succombed. I'm not sure whether this succombing was a loss, a failure, or something not meant to be -- but I'm sure it took me. I walked through my days in a greyness that I had not formerly known -- a greyness that I couldn't escape or simply gloss over until my feelings caught up with my state of being. I could say more, but I think the idea is clear.

But, even beginning with last summer, I witnessed the greyness of my skies beginning to clear. Color began to be restored -- in short, thickly satured strokes that surprised my dulled mind with their intensity...in long, wispy strokes that sliced through the grey with sustained effort...in great splotches that almost took my breath away. This color has returned with slow determination, beginning to brightly stain the hesitant grey canvases of my life and dreams. But even in its slow and faithful return, this color has not met a heart and mind without fear. "Why," I worry, "would the color return? Is there deep meaning I am supposed to ascertain?" And further: "Is this some kind of temporary relief -- an invisible ink to trick me into a return to fearless joy?" The great return of color has been met by a concurrent surge of fear.

But last night -- a reprieve.

I've prayed and prayed and prayed (without exaggeration) for the return of colorful skies in the midst of a greyness whose rhyme or reason I could not ascertain. Last night, my half and half heart heard a response. "It's time."

"Really?!" I said.

"It's time to return."

Needless to say, my heart leaped -- color surged -- stars returned to my eyes. I was so excited, in fact, that the above conversation took place approximately ten times. Then, a little bit more came. "Knowing the greys will help you to better know and appreciate the colors."

There's not much else for me to say, other than this: I believe I'm done with greys and blacks. It's time to dream in color again.