In this week preceding my surgery (it's tomorrow), I have had the following dreams:
1) I lost all my jobs, and was wandering in a jungle like setting, trying to find the people who would be able to tell me what I did wrong.
2) My boyfriend wanted a detailed list of all my sexual partners, focusing on the last time was with anyone but him. He wanted it in writing.
3) On a trip to SFO airport, I lost the big blue Samsonite suitcase my grandmother gave me back in 1979 for my high school graduation present. I kept thinking about the name tag on the suitcase, knowing I'd never see that Orinda address again under my name.
4) A psycho killer was on the loose, the city lights were out, and I had to take care of it. The good news in this dream was that just as I awakened, the lights started to come back on.
5) My former father-in-law died, and I was notified by my ex's current girlfriend in a terse, one line email.
6) At my gym, an enormous, rotund man wouldn't let me work out.
There were more, but I think you get the picture. Rather than worry all day about the procedure,I take it up at night and process through many truly sad and mostly bizarre scenarios. And I would imagine you wouldn't be surprised to know I wake up strangely refreshed. After all, I've figured things out at night.
I've always done this, anxiety dreams my forte. Before I started my full time status at Diablo Valley College, I had a dream that a mummy was chasing me all over campus. When my children fly on airplanes, I dream of planes crashing--and because I think a lot about my dreams, I decide I'm precognizant. Once, I almost canceled their flights. Before my marriage ended, I had dreams of tsunamis.
I know, I know. There are ways to interpret and explain all of these dreams. I've written about dreams before, stating how I find comfort in knowing that all the dream is me. I'm not just the victim. I'm the fat man, the suitcase, the current girlfriend, the jungle. I bring it all to the imagination table.
My boyfriend rarely remembers his dreams. He has them, but they vanish like smoke upon awakening. Mine don't. They stay. I can tell you about dreams I had decades ago. I've been able to pull from my dream scrapbook while writing novels, giving my characters my dreams.
This recollection can be seen as a minus, but they are like my other life, the one I have on the dark side of the moon. They tell me things I know but in another language. They help me out when I can't seem to help myself otherwise. They remind me about what I'm trying to forget. They won't let me forget, not ever.
So here's what I'm going to do today. I'm going to write. I'm going to read the NY Times. I'm going to write a letter to my former in-laws, thanking them for what they gave to me for twenty-three years. Then I'm going to see a movie, something happy, something light. Then I will come home to dream.
I likely won't be signing in tomorrow (for those of you who might notice!). But as Arnold said, "I'll be back."
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org