My so called dream life

Dreams. Necessary for all members of the human species to survive from one day to the next. A carnival for the mind, a private therapy session with yourself, a retreat from the wars we all fight every day. We dream of sorrow and of laughter, we dream of lust and of love. We dream of those who are around us, those who have departed and those who never were. We dream and remember we dream and forget.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of what I dream about. A way if you will, of taking inventory of dreams that have meant something to me. In some cases, dreams that have helped me resolve through issues, decipher or decrypt problems or even change my life.

When I was going through grad school, I noticed that when I woke up in the morning I was dead tired. My mind was spent. What I discovered was that my mind would be so focused on whatever question was at hand or whatever essay I had to write, that even though part of my brain was asleep, another part kept on working. It was almost as if I my mind was a little cobblers shop. The door would be locked and the candle lights turned off, but in the back room, shoes continued to be made. Thoughts would run through my head, the characteristics of one intellectual entity, the strengths and weaknesses of various cataloging schemes and so on. Either way, by the next morning, the shop would be open, with hundreds of new shoes for sale. The cobbler however would be so tired. His work completed, but at least all he had to do was ring the customers up. I did much the same, I was tired, but all I had to say, all the problems that were asked of me, merely had to be typed up. Usually, with a cup or two of coffee, the words would come pouring out of my mind almost unconsciously and unknowingly, like a wine barrel split open by an axe. Maybe I have always done that and not even realized it. Maybe I only recognized this particular peculiarity of my mind and dreams, because of the nature of the problems and the need to solve them in a particular time and manner.

Dreams have served me in other ways as well. When I first got married, I was still basically a kid. Still discovering myself, still not quite sure of my footing in the world, what I wanted out of life or why it even mattered. All I knew was that I had found someone to love and they loved me. Really, what more was there to it? Five years later and having grown up, I realized, there was so much more than that. Sometimes, we see someone with rose colored glasses and then realize, we didn’t have those glasses on to begin with. I knew what I was getting into. I chose to ignore problems, chose to let things slide, and chose the wrong person for the right reasons.

One inferno like September afternoon, the heat, more from argument then from the sun, she told me she had fallen in love with someone else. She still loved me, but she also loved this other person and she wanted to find out if it was real or not. Real? To find out? As if somehow, it was like trying a new car. As if somehow, all of this would be fine, because it was all about love. As if somehow I would actually still be here or want her.
What did I feel? Was I angry, bitter, sad? Was I fuming with jealousy and rage or about to break down and weep? No. It was mostly just relief. I was a little angry that she thought I was somehow going to put up with it. I was angry at myself for being such a doormat. Otherwise, it was just a gigantic burden lifted off my shoulders. It was like I had done 5 years of hard time off a lifetime sentence and the warden had just told me I was free to go. I have always been more honorable than intelligent, unfortunately. I had made an oath, I had made a commitment and despite being in my own personal hell, I wasn’t going to break my oath. However, now, I had been released of my burden. I was fucking free. Mostly I was just embarrassed. Embarrassed that I was going to have to tell my family and friends at how I had failed. Either way, she was now some other poor bastards problem. I was leaving as soon as I could and as fast as I could.

Always the one to throw caution to the wind, I was in another relationship within a matter of weeks. This time a long distance relationship with someone I had met online, I’ll call her Elizabeth, for her privacy. We meet for the first time at the Austin airport. She flew in from Washington D.C. just to visit, but also to see if there was anything more. To say there was chemistry between us would not do that weekend justice. If my apartment had been made entirely of something more flammable, I think it would have burned down. Every person should have a weekend like that or a few of them if possible. Of laughing and talking and loving and forgetting that there is even a world other than what surrounds you.

We made plans for the future; we even had our future family picked out. Of course reality doesn’t follow plans. I meet Elizabeth at the San Antonio airport in late December. The air was bitterly cold, strange for San Antonio. I remember as we kissed not mere moments from stepping into the apartment, she commented she was falling in love with me all over again. It was how she said it though. Not like it was joyful, but painful. She, like me, was in the process of getting a divorce. She said she wanted to try again with her husband. That I was like a drug that she needed to get out of her system. I know she meant it as saying that I was addicting. I took it more of an insult, in that I was bad for her, like some drugs are bad for a body. I don’t think I had hurt that much before. I didn’t think that much hurt could be inflicted on anyone without death.

Elizabeth stayed for a few days. She talked of what could have been. I talked of what could still be. She left on the day of the New Year. She didn’t want me to walk her to her flight, because she was afraid she would break down and not get on it. The last I saw of her, she melted into a busy airport crowded with holiday travelers and flew away.
We talked and e-mailed. She having at times an uncertainty of what she had done and not knowing what to do. On Valentines Day, she informed me she needed to stop all conversation between us, as it was too difficult to remain friends. Any time I mentioned seeing someone else, she would be so jealous she couldn’t think straight. She hated not having control of herself. I wasn't in any better shape. She need time to think. She didn’t know how long. She told me to do whatever it took to forget her.

About a month after I had stopped talking with her and who knows how many times of breaking down at work, or at a social event or just by myself, I had a dream. In the dream, I was walking in an airport. The planes were filled with memories of my past and the luggage carousel had bags filled with events that may or may not happen. A lady, in a blue uniform, told me to go down the moving sidewalk. I asked why. She told me, because it was time I did. She gently turned me around and led me to the moving sidewalk. I stepped on and moved through a long tunnel. At the far end of the tunnel, was Elizabeth. She was on the other side of the moving sidewalk and we moved towards each other in opposite directions. She was dressed in a black leather jacket, with matching blouse and jeans. Her Irish/Cuban complexion of her face was fantastic in the morning sun. As she got closer, she smiled. At the same time I was nervous and sad and joyful and excited. As she approached, the sidewalk stopped moving. She said nothing, but handed me a little box made of silver and ebony, the lid open. Inside was a little locket that had no words, but that I knew represented strength, pride and love. There was a ring, that also had no words but I knew represented drive and ambition. Lastly, there was a little pin, with small rubies in the shape of a sun. I knew it represented forgiveness and a new start. The sidewalk started to move again and she turned to me, smiled, shed a single tear and waved, out of the tunnel and out of my life. I exited out onto the tarmac, a large plane ready for parts unknown.
I woke up with every muscle aching and tears that just would not stop. And it was over. All my grief, all my pain had left me. There was an ache in my heart, but it was distant. There were memories, but they were pleasant. I had forgiven Elizabeth for breaking my heart and it felt wonderful. I knew, even if I wanted to, I could never ever have a romantic relationship with her again. My mind had taken the steps necessary for me to move on. She e-mailed me about 4 months later asking how I was doing and asking about my love life. I told her I was doing great, I hoped she was well and that I was seeing someone. I never heard from her again.

There have been two dreams that I almost do not know if they were dreams. Soon after my relationship with Elizabeth had ended, I was not quite sure where it was that I was supposed to go. The plane was fueled and ready, but I had no idea where the plane was going. I also was worried that nobody was even in that plane to fly it. I had a dream one night and I was standing on the side of the road. Actually, I was standing on the freeway. 281 and Bitters, in San Antonio to be exact. The freeway was a little different. It had all these dividers in the road, some left, some right some up some down, some hanging from an invisible ceiling. As I started to walk, a flying car pulled up. An invisible flying car. Invisible as in invisible, like Wonder Woman’s invisible plane. You could make out the shape, but it was see-through. A woman was at the controls. I recognized her as a girl I had gone to elementary school with. Yet…she was all grown up. I don’t want to use her real name, so I will call her Wendy. Wendy was a little younger than me, but not much, still an adult, not at all like I remember her. Wendy smiled a big, beautiful smile and waved for me to get in. She grabbed my hand as I stepped in, as the flying invisible car had no doors. She said “Ash! It’s been so long! I have a lot to teach you tonight. Let’s go.”
We quickly were flying on the highway, Wendy was weaving in and out and up and down the barriers, going so fast, everything was a blur. Wendy turned to me, still wearing her beautiful smile, her black hair flowing behind her and said laughing and in a voice that could be heard over the wind “Now it’s your turn!”. Controls magically appeared in front of me. A flight wheel and a few glowing blue buttons. I was terrified. I screamed over the wind and traffic, that we would crash if I drive. I don’t know how to drive this thing! Look at all these barriers! You will get us both killed!

She laughed each time I expressed concern. She laughed the hardest at the last part. Wendy turned to me, took my hand and scolded me in a gentle but exasperated tone and said “Ash! Stop being so scared! Stop being so scared of everything. Your whole life you have been so scared of living. You’ve been so scared of growing up!” “After everything you have been through, stop being such a damn wimp, because I know that’s who you used to be, but you don’t have to be that any more.”. She continued on “I told you I was here to teach you. Grab the wheel, I don’t have all night.” I grabbed the wheel and felt a surge of courage flow around and through me. She turned to me in an almost sultry voice “Ash. Look ahead. You have good vision (actually, I wear glasses), you can see far ahead of what is in front you. As long as you are prepared for what is about to come, you can turn and dodge out of the way.” Wendy laughed a big hardy laugh from her slight frame and said “Just keep your eyes on the road and you will be fine.” . We drove the rest of the night, she laughing and emanated this power of both strength and bliss. She would point and giggle as I flew past the barriers at an even faster speed than she had gone. It was like flying. It was beautiful, wondrous and somehow, her laughter tasted like cotton candy. We pulled over. Wendy kissed me on the cheek. I stepped out of the flying invisible car, my legs shaky, like I had just come off a roller coaster. She put her hands back on her steering wheel and looked at me with eyes so full of life and light. “I told you I was going to teach you.” “You know the way now. You’re not scared anymore. I am so proud of you.” She waved and blew me a kiss and flew into the sky. I woke up.

I ended up going back to school and receiving my bachelor degree. I did so well, I ended up getting a fellowship for graduate school. I remember that dream often. I remember Wendy, who taught me and laughed with me as we flew in that invisible flying car. I tried to find the real Wendy. Wendy from what I understand passed away a few years before that dream. I don’t know how or in what manner. I hope that information was wrong. I don’t know if that dream was just a dream and coincidence or if it was something more. I don’t know if it was my psyche that needed to resolve some issues or if Wendy still had to teach me to be unafraid so that she could move on. Perhaps, both? All I know is that Wendy helped me when I needed it and for that, real or imagined, I hope she is flying her invisible car in peace and laughter.

Lastly, I had a dream not unlike the one with Wendy. I tell it now, only because I felt it may need to be shared not just with friends, but also with family, if they choose to read it. In 2003 both my grandfather and grandmother passed away. My grandfather took care of my grandmother and they had celebrated well over 50 years together, closer to 60 really. My grandfather passed first, cancer taking him at the age of 82. My grandmother, never in the best of health and with a mind that was going, passed a few months later. I loved both my grandmother and grandfather very much. I was closer to my grandfather. I believe I’m still dealing to some degree with this death, even though he had a great life. Perhaps it is just the thought of how brief life is. How quickly time seems to fly and how much I’ve come to realize how temporary living is. Perhaps that is why I had this particular dream.
In this dream, I was surrounded by a type of mist. I was in an area that was both nothing and everything. I can’t explain how, it just…was. At a short distance, not very far away was a raven haired woman, wearing a red sweater and gray mid-length skirt. I started to approach and as I did, I could feel this wave of joy. Absolute, blinding, joy that came from everywhere. The lady standing in front of me was in her early 20’s. She had black hair that she wore in a style that I’ve seen worn in the late 40’s. Her dress of red light sweater and gray, almost ankle length skirt, as also that of something in the 40’s. Then it hit me. Who this lady was. She had a name tag on her upper chest. A sticky or pinned, I can’t remember which now, name tag with hand written letters. I couldn’t read the letters however. But I knew what it said. It was Mrs. Pena. It was my grandmother. She smiled as she floated and that wave of joy became stronger and stronger till it forced me awake.

My grandmother had white hair since I can remember. But it was her. There is a picture of my grandfather and my grandmother on their wedding day. He in an Army uniform during World War II and she in her bridal gown, with her hair of black in her veil. She looked in my dream, a little older than that picture, at which point I believe she was 19 or 20.
My grandmother was a music teacher. I will always remember her voice and her fingers at the piano. The dream I had, if I understood it correctly, was what she may have worn on the first day of class. At what point, I do not know. Nor am I certain it was not a dream. It didn’t feel like a dream, it felt like…something else. It felt, really like a message.
It has been a few years and I have debated with myself how to even bring this dream up. I know nobody in my family would laugh or think I was crazy, but I don’t even know how to bring it up without sounding stark raving mad. I have no experience as a medium, nor am I even aware if this experience was anything but a dream. Yet, I am compelled to write this, in my own way, to fulfill what was asked of me, with no words being spoken. So, I decided to make a blog entry about it. Maybe my cousins, uncles, aunts, brother or mom have had a similar vision or dream and do not know how to bring I up. I just wanted a chance to mention it in case they had not had a similar experience.
I wanted to tell my family that she is at a destination we all travel to at some point. To tell them that where she is, is radiant and beautiful and so full of joy that it is immeasurable. A message to tell them to love each other and to live a good and great life. Lastly, a message to remember, that the music you hear in your dreams, the music that plays spontaneously in your heart is her way of telling you how much you are loved.

Perhaps it was a dream. I somehow think not. I only hope I did, in my way, what was asked of me. I hope anyone reading this takes something from it and at the very least, enjoys reading it. And I hope your dreams bring to you, what mine have brought to me.