I had a dream

Once in a while I have very vivid dreams that I remember in whole when I wake up.

In some cases the symbolism is very obvious to me, as when my marriage was dissolving and I dreamed I pulled into the driveway of my house to see all my things being sold in a garage sale.

Or when I was a young woman and dreamed I was pedaling a tricycle through the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, pulling a wagon behind me with my parents sitting in it.

But Saturday night I had one of those dreams that seemed to be only fantasy, pure entertainment. In this dream, one of my computer friends invited me to join a group that was looking for a secluded spot to “do some coke.”

“I don’t want cocaine,” I told him, “but maybe someone has a joint.”

(Just for the record, my friends and I do not use cocaine, and I haven’t smoked dope in over thirty years, since it was “fashionable” in the seventies. As I said, fantasy.)

He thought my request was unlikely, but encouraged me to join the party anyway, so we all set off hiking up a mountain. We had a little trouble finding a quiet enough spot, since the mountain was being colonized by Hasidic Jews. There were little cabins and bigger bunkhouses everywhere we looked, and men in black with tall hats and peyes (facial sidelocks) walking around silently.

We finally found an isolated clearing and gathered close to consume the drugs. In short order, police arrived, the group scattered, and some were hauled off to jail.

The next day I ran into the same friend who originally extended the invitation and asked him, “Who got busted?”

“I can’t talk about it now,” he whispered mysteriously, after which I woke up.

That friend in the dream is someone I’ve known since the early ‘90’s, but it’s been nearly two years since I’ve seen or spoken with him at all. Before that we only had sporadic contact for a couple of years, and before that we co-authored a magazine column together for three years. No current contact in two years, but he reads my blog.

The day after the dream was Sunday. Imagine my surprise when I picked up the phone and that very same friend was on the other end of the line!

The reason I’m telling this story is to point out how connected I feel to so many people, even people I don’t see or have contact with in the “real world.” I know many of you who read my blog have been concerned about my most recent dark posts, and before that, a long period of no posts at all. I’ve heard from many of you, via various methods, expressing concern and hope and prayer and good thoughts. I want you to know how much that all means to me!

As I’ve said before, I’m not a religious person; I don’t pray myself. But I encourage all of you who do to keep it up. I accept donations of good thoughts in any form they come. Everyone has their own way of getting it across and I definitely feel touched by it all.

My life is rough right now, but I feel and very much need your support. It invigorates me at a time when chemotherapy is doing its damnedest to sap my energy.

And I love you for it.

Dream connections

I had one of those dreams last night. You know the sort: you find yourself in a familiar but very old environment, something is about to happen and you’re totally unprepared. It might be high school or college and you’re on your way to a test, but not only did you not study, you’re not even sure you attended any classes! Or maybe you find yourself back in elementary school, sitting under a desk in your underwear, wondering how you’ll get through the day without being noticed.

Last night I dropped my daughter off at school and someone reminded me of a PTA meeting I’d promised to attend that was about to start. I drove straight to the host house, dropped my coat in an empty room, and wandered around noticing parents I hadn’t seen since my pre-empty-nest days. I wondered why some of them looked at me oddly until I remembered I’d forgotten my wig. I was wandering through a crowd of people who didn’t know I had cancer, announcing the fact with my patchy, scraggly, white, cellophane-like hair.

When I have one of these very vivid dreams, I like to lie in bed and hold onto the feelings it evokes. I think that helps me better understand my waking emotional landscape. This dream carried a heavy sadness I don’t like to indulge when I am awake. It underscored my self-consciousness, my loneliness, and even a sense of guilt.

I have cancer. I am alone and frightened. I have wonderful people who think about me and care about me and know the full extent of my health situation through things I’ve written in this blog. But the truth is, this adventure brings a very painful sense of detachment. Some of you have said: I don’t know how you do it. Well, I don’t know how I do it either. I mean, mostly I just put my head down and plod through day by day. But sometimes I look up and try to see further than next week, and I get really scared.

Head-down-plodding gets you only so far. I’ve applied all my competence to getting through the cancer crisis and it seems to be working. But in the process, I’ve neglected other things. My life feels like a big chaotic mess to me right now, and that’s the part I don’t know how I’ll get through.

All this from a dream.