Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Suicide Dream

I went to bed last night tired but ebullient. 2011 is starting out well for me and I have only the most positive outlook. Considering what an incredible challenge 2010 was for me, that’s an incredible statement for me to make. So when I woke up from one of the most incredibly vivid dream I’ve had in years, it shook me.

A few days ago, I had an idea for a new story; actually it was a TV show about fraternal twins. Now, I don’t know where that came from because I am not a twin and I have the same passing curiosity for twins as the next person, but nothing more.

Last night my dream began in medias res, as dreams often do. I was a fraternal twin but I was the male twin! Something had happened to my sister twin and I was devastated. I’m only assuming she had died because the sorrow was unceasing.

So in the dream, I decide to take my own life. I have a number of sleeping pills and I take them. But somehow I know that from the time I take the pills, I have time to sit, compose my final thoughts to say good bye. As I try to gather my thoughts, I reach for a folder on my desk, there is paperwork and something that looks like a newsletter, I can’t remember. But whatever they are, they set off a melody of memories in my dream self’s consciousness. And my life replays in my head.

Suddenly I am faced with the unexpected realization that my life was filled with small quiet moments of joy and bliss. There were memories of people who slipped through the cracks of my life but left a semblance of grace and warmth. Moments of grace that I did not recognize at the time I was living through them. But only in hindsight did I see all the things I had missed and realized that life could always be more than just the pain and sorrow that I felt and if I had just hung on a little longer, the hindsight would have come.

But for my dream self, it was too late. I had taken the pills and my eyesight was starting to darken. I knew I didn’t have as much time as I thought I had, I realized in a panic, I did not want to die. I wanted to live because I saw that the joy was there, I just had to look. But as I panicked, I knew it was too late, my dream self was dying and my eyesight faded away and I died.

I died in my sleep and I woke up gasping. Relief flooded through me like an immersion into warmth, I was alive and it was all a dream. But what was the morale of the dream?

Life is a mosaic of emotions, riotous moments of unexpected joy, inexplicable anger, unbelievable love and a multitude of intangibles that made life worth living. When we only stare at the dark colors of grief and sorrow, we miss out on the bright colors of joy and love. We must step back and allow the picture to evolve into the landscape of our lives. With each color providing the depth to our existence, each color having its place and adding meaning to our lives.

But what was the meaning for me? I’m not suicidal; I’m too stubborn to ever admit that kind of defeat?! Then it dawned on me, I was close to giving up on something I loved, but for all the frustrating moments I’ve had, there were moments of giggles and laughter that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I was about to hang up my sword and relinquish my general duties. The dream told me, not just yet.

1 comment:

  1. Dearest Roms i read your stories here of life about your brother, your dreams where you go what you do and have been doing so for some time and you know what dearest friend You my love are a born natural writer.. You have the ability to make a person cry laugh get serious be in awe and more than anything you hold a readers attention when you are writing about the most ordinary things such as what you dreamed about .. where you went for breakfast what you ate.! A name that comes to mind as an author is Faye Weldon who also writes about things people situations basically Life One of her stories made into a movie She Devil .. yes do you know of this... there is something about your writing that makes me think of her only that you too use what is around you, what you do . or who is involved in you, or around you and so forth as the props for what you write about.. and you write in a way that holds the readers attention. You can also make a person feel. whether one wants to laugh cry sing out loud.. the reader can identify I believe with what you write how you write ... Dear Rom i think in you is a writer and perhaps if you just gave yourself the benefit of the doubt to believe in yourself you would be doing just that writing stories. you are more than capable and have what it takes to do so.. Your stories have reduced me to tears in laughter and sadness .. that is something very special that only writers are actually capable of doing to and for their readers. we all have sad stories or funny stories or dreams etc etc only it is how these stories are written that brings the reader to identify with you with your stories and your writing is capable of doing so. Love and hugz and think about this Roms as you obviously do enjoy writing or this blog would not be existing Your a natural talent dear friend as a writer and I think that writer is bursting to get out.. and write up a storm! love to you always Beez :))