A Dream Toward Dawn
July 31, 2009
The other night I had a very unsettling dream, so unsettling that it took me over a day to tell Joe about it and a couple of days to decide to write about it, because I kind of had to think about it.
It was very real, vivid even, the kind of dream where you really think you're there. I even remember the feelings I was having in the dream and how I was dealing with those feelings; I remember the clothing I was wearing in the dream.
When I have nightmares, I feel like I have to tell them out loud so that I can remove their power. (How's that for a superstition?)
I often have dreams about things I'm putting off, or about things I'm trying to avoid. When I have those sorts of dreams, I usually get inspired to do whatever it was I was dreaming about.
This time, though... it wasn't exactly a bad dream, just unsettling.
Oh, let me just get on with it.
I dreamed that I had terminal cancer.
And I was totally fine with it. I had totally accepted that I had this disease and that I was going to die very soon.
In the dream, I was wearing a thick, brown, pullover sweater and lovely brown flowy pants, and I had a bright blue silk scarf tied around my head, its long ends trailing down to my waist. Because of the scarf, the "watching me" noted that I must have undergone chemotherapy.
I was telling Joe what he'd have to do after I died and how he should do it. I reminded him to file a claim for the life insurance, and that it should be enough for him to live on. I told him how I wanted my funeral. He was listening and writing things down, though he seemed very sad.
I, on the other hand, was quite calm. I kept saying, "It's okay; it's okay."
When I woke up, I wondered if I should go have one of those head-to-toe body scans that supposedly shows up every tiny thing that might be wrong for you.
I've just been to the doctor for a regular checkup. I've had my mammogram and Dexa scan. I've recently had a chest x-ray, a Pap smear, an abdominal ultrasound. Check, check, double check; all is well.
I can only hope that, if the time does come, I really can manage to be fine with it.