Pieces of Me

Long before Ashlee Simpson performed her song, I gave a vivid dream I had the title “Pieces of Me.” I have always thought would make a great short film. What do you think?

In my dream, I am walking at night along the top of sea cliffs—much the way I envision the Cliffs of Dover— not craggy and harsh, but smooth and sheer. There is enough moonlight to see clearly. I am walking alone, but I see people in the distance, most of them standing alone, peering over the edge of the cliff at the sea beneath. As I get closer to each of them, I recognize them as friends, some as family, all of them familiar and beloved. As I get close to them, I see that they are looking over the cliff and contemplating jumping to the sea below. I reach to them, try to convince them not to jump. But as I approach, each of them gazes at me with a look of inevitability, of resignation, and leaps. I feel a tangible tug at myself as each of them disappears over the edge, but I struggle to maintain my balance on the cliff, and keep walking toward the next person. As each additional person makes the leap off the edge, I feel lighter and lighter and unable to stand against the blowing wind on the top of the seacliffs. I stop and look over the edge, and in the black waves breaking against the base of the cliffs, are small pieces of something bobbing on the water, attached by thin strings to all my dear ones who are floating in the water. As I look closer at the floating pieces, then look down to where the wind is blowing through me, I realize that they are pieces of ME. The tugging I felt as each person went over the cliff was a piece of myself inseparably attached to them, lost forever to the waves. As I make this realization, the view pulls back and I see myself standing alone on the cliff, the sea wind blowing through the holes in me as I look to the waves below.