I have been dreaming vividly again over the last weeks. Not nightmares so much, though one I had the other night did bother me quite a bit. It seems silly now because it really wasn’t creepy, just strange. I dreamt that I was trying to cover up the tiniest little spot on my forehead with some makeup. I was taking thick, uncomfortable liquid foundation and dabbing it on the spot. Instead of disappearing, however, the spot kept growing. And so I kept applying the makeup liberally hoping to conceal the expanding imperfection.

Finally I stopped and just stood there staring into the mirror. There was so much makeup on my face that I looked like a plastic white mannequin. I felt disappointed and frustrated; I don’t even like wearing makeup. I scowled into the mirror. I woke up shortly after that but the dream stayed with me. In retrospect it really hadn’t been scary. Nothing all that bad had actually taken place. Yet the dream sat wrong with me all morning.

It’s not difficult to figure out what inspired it. When drifting off to sleep the night before I spent a lot of time thinking about lies and truth, and how it never benefits a person to live a life full of deceit. Lies twist you into something fake, bitter and distasteful. Untruths grow until even the liar can’t remember where the line is between real and false. Lies are heavy and hard to carry, especially as they pile up over time. Lies destroy lives and minds. The truth is always better, though sometimes more painful and difficult to choose.

No one lives their life perfectly, but a honest life is definitely something to be admired. It is something I strive for each day, even when my intentions are not always pure.