Dreamin'
I heard a talk recently by a well known philosopher, who explained his new theory of humor. It was something about how comedy helps us to identify things that are inconsistent in the world, and thereby helps us learn. Humor is an important mechanism of our survival, he explained. I guess there are a lot of things that help us learn, and the way we dream is one of them. You can think about dreams from a lot of different angles -- cognitive, neurological, spiritual -- but more often than not, I can identify a way that my dreams help to point out what would happen if I didn't make good choices. My dreams are a way for my brain to explore the "what if" scenarios in my life. The outcomes of those scenarios often influence me to make better choices. I'm going to share a dream with you now, and maybe it'll do the same for you.
It was a warm day. Tom, Rowan and I were visiting with family in Georgia. We had been there for several days and we had done lots of activities. We had gone to see a movie, taken Rowan to the local theme park, walked around the farm, eaten meals together, and more. We were just loading the car to go home, when suddenly I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. I realized what it was: in all those days, I had forgotten to call Grammies! We had gone on all these adventures, had so much fun, and all that time none of us thought to call her.
Pause for a moment for me to tell you that nothing of this sort ever happened in real life. It's not even fathomable in the context of my relationship with her. But something in my brain causes it to play this scenario over and over again. Yes, over and over. I have a recurring series of dreams about Grammies' death. It starts with us being told she wouldn't survive a particular stay in the hospital, and then we saw orderlies wheeling her out of her hospital room pale and cold, and we believed she had died. Then, just as the elevator doors were about to close, we heard her say, "I'm not done yet, you ___!" (That blank changes every time. Sometimes it's "idiots," sometimes it's "donkey's ass," and sometimes it's "damn Republicans.") ;-) Anyway, after that, she goes back home to live, but she is never really mobile again. She becomes one of those ladies stuck in her own house. It is in that context that the horrible realization of my dream hits me.
So I called her immediately upon making this realization, that in fact she wasn't dead but that I had heartlessly neglected to call her. She answered the phone with her usual, "Hello?" I said, "Hi Grammies, it's me." She replied, "Doll! I have missed you so much."
It's at that point that I usually wake up from this horrible dream, gasping for breath. Last night I dreamt it again and again. I would wake up, tell myself that the dream wasn't real and that I never squandered a moment of my relationship with Grammies, only to fall back asleep and dream the whole thing again. Poor Tom woke up this morning asking what on earth I was dreaming about that caused me to have such a fitful night. So today, after years of dreaming this recurring series of awful dreams, I'm going to write one of the lessons they hold. Ready? It'll be a bit preachy, so if that isn't your thing, stop reading now.
We all get just a very limited number of days to wake up, see the sun rise, and share love with the people we care about. Sometimes we waste a day doing useless, selfish stuff. Sometimes we waste many in a row. Sometimes we choose not to endure discomfort -- perhaps a long drive, or the cold, or somebody's annoying sense of humor -- because we'd rather just be comfortable and alone. If you're doing that, stop. If there are people you love that you aren't seeing because it's too much trouble, or that you aren't talking to because you don't know what to say, or that you don't hug because you aren't sure if they'll hug you back, I implore you: Go! Talk! Hug! You don't want to be dreaming my awful unrealistic dream, only to wake up and find that it was your reality.
Here's a picture from a particularly wonderful weekend when Grammies came to visit our first little house here in North Carolina. She said no again and again, but I insisted and finally just bought her ticket. By the time her trip came she was so excited she could barely contain herself. The weekend was filled with cooking, playing card games, visiting our favorite restaurants, and lots of talking and laughing. It's the source of one of the happiest photos of her that I can recall seeing.
See? Go! Talk! Hug! You can do it.