lately i've been caught a little off guard when people ask me how i'm doing. what a strange question... not that people are asking it, but it's strange for me to evaluate. so i usually stop and think for a bit before i answer. the general self-evaluation is that i'm good, but what a strange and foreign concept of good.
my seizures have gotten substantially better. though they still occur from time to time, it's not really that big of a deal. i've gotten to the point where i feel like i'm starting to operate normally again. i have routines. i'm doing well in school. i just interviewed for a job. i'm going to counseling on a weekly basis. i'm not numb. i'm not held captive in pain, though the ache is still prominent.
i have a lot to be thankful for. and i am. i really am. i know that each moment of each day i really do have a choice on how i'm going to react to things. there are days when i wake up and i'm anxious and my heart is heavy and my body twinges like it's going to seize. normally i'd get upset and fight these things. now i'm learning to turn to my Father. that may mean that i need to go back to sleep for a bit. that may mean that i need to get up and around and moving to get out of my funk. whatever it is, i know that things aren't usually as bad as they seem to be. and if they are, i'm not alone. this isn't to say that i don't struggle. i definitely do, but it doesn't seem as overwhelming.
last week i had a dream about brock. it was also strange, but oh so good.
in the dream i knew he was dead and my heart was heavy. i went to go visit his sister, sydney, because sometimes being with her allows me to grieve and remember him without really having to use any words and i knew it would be good for my heart. in this dream she lived in an old neighborhood with big oaks that created a canopy over the road. old buick-type cars were parked in the street and she was sitting on a well-worn porch. inside the house a couple of old guys were talking baseball and the porch had some little boys' toys scattered across it.
i sat on the porch with her messing around and talking. i ended up playing with some legos while we were talking and made the top half of the empire state building. for some reason why thought this was funny. all along though beneath the joking was a mutually understood sadness. we both ached.
the scene switched and we were walking to "my" car which was parked in down the street a little ways. (i put my in quotes because it definitely isn't my car in real life. it looked like charlie's mobster car... a big, old maroon-red boat.) we were going to go on a drive just to escape for a bit. syd hopped in the passenger seat and i was trying to pull a box out of the backseat behind her when i saw brock sitting in the driver's seat. again, i knew he was dead in the dream. so i just stood there shocked, box in hand, staring at him. i couldn't hear him but i knew he laughed. then he made big exaggerated movements trying to tell me to put the box down and to get syd to hope in the back seat. still confused, i asked syd if she minded riding in back, fairly certain that she wasn't seeing what i was seeing. so she, equally confused, agreed and hopped in back.
brock, or the strange apparition of brock, then smiled and laughed again and told me to hop in. this time i could actually hear him speak. still stunned, i got in the passenger side, shut the door and stared at him. he seemed so alive and he was so happy. he started driving somewhere and began to poke fun at my car's speedometer, which was outrageously off. we were barely moving at it said 40mph. when we got up to real speed of 35mph it said something like 85mph. even though all of this was so bizarre, i still made a mental note in the dream to have sam, brock's dad, check it out. we got to the end of the street and he turned left onto a small road. i was so entranced with him that i was barely aware of syd in back, but i knew at some point that she knew he was there too.
no matter how many times i rehearse this dream it's here where the sequence of things get a little fuzzy. the road he took was on the very edge of a bay. the water must have been up or something because even though the bay was calm as can be, waves were coming up over the road. i got scared because i knew he was going to drive straight into it. even though he knew i was scared, brock remained lively. then he looked at me with a look of his that said trust me. it was daring and playful and confident. he drove straight ahead and the waves pounded over the car.
i can't remember if it was before or after this that i decided to reach out to try and touch him. i wanted so badly for him to actually be there, but i was half convinced that my hand would go straight through him. but as i reached out for his hand, our palms collided and he intertwined his fingers in mine. the contact was like lightning, but instead of bright it was deep. his hand seemed so real. i could feel the warmth of his skin and the callouses he built up from drumming and playing the guitar. it was so real that i could barely breathe. i leaned into his side, wrapped myself around his arm, and laid my head on his chest to hear his heart and feel him breathe. i was so happy, so thankful that i started crying.
i must have been actually been crying in my sleep because i woke up crying. when i realized that it all really was a dream i sank into my pillow and sobbed, but even with the aching pain a peace held onto my heart.
everyday since i find my thoughts drifting back to this dream. sometimes i'll stop what i'm doing just so i can remember it again. surprisingly the part i always come back to first isn't being able to touch him. it's the waves... the waves crashing over the hood of the car while the bay remained so very still. i really, really like those waves. for some reason, that image calms me down and lets me breathe.
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