When I was a kid, I had a reoccurring dream about a witch sitting in a chair beside my bed watching me sleep. She scared me. Maybe she was a dream. But she felt real. Night after night. Always so real.

When my daughter was little, she slept with me in the same bed at my dad’s house whenever  we went to visit him. Years later, she told me she didn’t like sleeping there because she always dreamed of a witch sitting beside the bed, watching her.

And today, thinking again about the inner child work I need to do, it finally dawned on me, What if that witch was me now?

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