Whether camped out in the woods under a billion stars or nestled in my room without a single light, I dream. A lot. I mean pretty much every single night. If I wake up in the middle of the night – assuming I am able to get back to sleep – then woo-hoo, it could even be a double feature.
It wasn’t always this way, but has been over the last couple of years. Not sure what changed. 🙂
These are fantastical dreams featuring places I’ve been before as well as destinations I could have never imagined. They feature people I’ve known for years and faces of folks I’ve never met.
When I awaken, I briefly remember the details of these dream stories. Soon thereafter, I try to replay these epic adventures in my mind. Then, all too often, an hour or so into my day I will have forgotten them completely. These magical midnight movies are now relegated to some long lost part of my brain, bound to come up as a perplexing déjà vu at some point in my future.
This is going to sound a little out there (as does much of what I say these days), but many of you have had a cameo in those dreams. Yes, seriously, (but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for any royalty check). Anyway, I’ve often thought of messaging people when they’ve been in one of my dreams, but then on second thought I realized that might come across a little weird. (So maybe we just forget this whole part of the story, ok?) 🙂
Really, in every instance, these were all great fun.
From long gone local hangouts to exotic, faraway adventures, none of these dreams or their stories necessarily makes any sense, but does that really matter? To whit, from recent episodes:
There must’ve been a thousand cars at the Renfro the other night, I’m pretty sure I saw you there. And last week, the old Hazel Dell Hollow was full up with friends, remember?
Or what about that cruise we all took? You know, the one that routed us through the center of the Earth? Wow, was that an adventure.
And how much fun was that huge pick up softball game down at Leverich Park? There were some big names there, Trisha‘s cousin Randy showed up, and brought a couple of his “Nasty Boys” friends to play. The place went insane when I took Dibble deep for the walk off. Good times.
(note, in my dreams, it was safe and clean and usable down at Leverich… a distinct benefit dreams have over reality).
In each instance, we’re all just hanging out, a countless community of family and friends and friends of friends, simply enjoying time together. I always found that camaraderie, those friendships, to be part of what makes life worth living.
There have been literally hundreds of these cinematic celebrations in my sleep. In them, we’ve enjoyed activities as mundane as standing around a bonfire at Frenchman’s to adventures so outrageous that they would make Indiana Jones green with envy.
Reflecting upon these amazing escapades, it seems as though in these dreams I have experienced almost everything imaginable.
Epic battles. Mountain climbing to cave dwelling. City life to Country living. Playing for the A’s to owning a Zoo. Here at home, around the world, and into the stars above. In these dreams I’ve experienced almost everything…
Except having ALS.
See, I’ve never had a dream where I was afflicted with this ruthless disease.
I’ve never had a dream where I was unable to walk, or run, or throw, or eat, or drink, or live a normal life.
No. In every one of these hundreds and hundreds of dreams over the last few years, I was always my old self.
Active. Engaged. Participating.
Walking. Talking. Laughing.
Myself.
In the first waking moments of each day, the brutal realization that these were, in fact, only dreams is a soul crushing experience. That the joy and excitement found in these dreams-so-real must immediately give way to the stark, ugly reality of my new day can be unbelievably depressing.
Where, truly in a blink of an eye, you transcend from the unbridled happiness of fully participating in the activities and adventures that you’ve loved and lived – and, candidly, dreamt about – for your entire life. Only then to be left grasping for answers as to why this terminal disease and the broken body it has created is now your new normal.
Can you even imagine?
Without a doubt, it is the most wicked definition of a rude awakening.
The emotional devastation unleashed in those first waking moments of your day could be incredibly overwhelming.
If you allow it to be.
Look, I have ALS. You have something else. He is fighting this. She is battling that. We all have something that might lead us to believe that pulling the covers back up over our head and shutting down our lives is the answer.
It’s not. At least not for me.
For my answer, I look at my beautiful wife and I reflect on the life we have lived, the life we had planned. I see the courage in her selfless efforts and the incredible sacrifices she now makes on my behalf. It empowers me.
I think of my three amazing (adult) children and how my actions should set an example of how to love, how to live, and how to persevere through the inevitable challenges in life. It inspires me.
I think of my family and friends, and honoring the memories and relationships I cultivated and nurtured over the years. It motivates me.
And I think back on a commitment I made soon after I was diagnosed. A promise to God and to my family that I would never, ever give up my Faith, my Fight, my Hope, or my Love.
There is my answer. That is my Why.
My love for these people. My determination to show appreciation for the Blessings I have been given in this life. My commitment to fulfill the promise that I made.
These thoughts, ingrained into every fiber of my being, provide me the strength to faithfully live out every moment of every day.
The way I look at it, that is a dream come true.
