“Dreams, if they’re any good, are always a little bit crazy. ” ― Ray Charles
“Promise me you’ll never stop dreaming.” ― Melina Marchetta
One thing that being cooped up in the house is that it has given me ample time to live in my head. To not only think about the last five months but what I can expect in the future. Since I have not written pretty much anything since being hospitalized in late December/early January, I’m going to spend some time just writing about the crazy shit that has been residing in my head. Feel free to comment!
When I could sleep, the dreams came like clockwork. However, sleep did not come easy during the nine days that I was in the hospital. Blood being drawn every two hours, the coughing and crying of the patient next to me who appeared to be waiting for death and the visits from a multitude of doctors made a heavy and necessary restful sleep almost impossible. But I always knew that at some point during the day or night I had slept because I could remember the dreams.
They were always the same. I would start a hike at South Mountain Pass that would take me to Anthony’s Nose. Although the hike is about four miles round trip and easier than most, I could feel a sense of dread as I made my way up the trail. Each step, laboriously taken to avoid wet rocks and branches, became more and more difficult as I made my way up the trail. The sun disappeared behind the clouds and the vegetation on the ground and the trees themselves had changed. At the parking area, I was surrounded by lush green leaves and beautiful flowers. Now, all of the vegetation was dead and the sense of dread was much worse. Each time that I had the dream, I would walk a little further and after being enveloped in darkness, I would wake up.
After leaving the hospital, the dream never returned.
I have thought about it over the course of the last few months and I can’t figure out any answers as to the meaning of the dream. Any thoughts?
“Wake up! If you knew for certain you had a terminal illness–if you had little time left to live–you would waste precious little of it! Well, I’m telling you…you do have a terminal illness: It’s called birth. You don’t have more than a few years left. No one does! So be happy now, without reason–or you will never be at all.”
This quote sends a very powerful message. One that not many people think about it. Whether you like it or not, you are, in fact, dying. The process began the second you were born. I can tell you that in my twenties, thirties and even into my forties, I was so wrapped up in the intricacies of every day life that I never gave death a thought. Now that I have ventured into my fifties, I have come to the realization that I have much less time on the earth than I have spent on it.
This is an odd feeling. I find myself thinking about my mortality and how it has laid claim to how it plays a role in the decisions that I make every day. My priorities on what it means to be happy, and how I can get to that level of happiness have evolved and is now paramount in my life. It also continues to be an ongoing exploration of seeing that being happy is much easier than we think it is.
I’m not talking about gaining material goods to see if I can make myself happy, it’s more of a choice of how I interact with everyone around me. These personal interactions are what I consider to be true measures of happiness.
Being happy is a choice made by every person every day and should last until our last day.
“Tombstones covered the dale, the smooth marble surfaces bright. She had spent days here as a teenager, though not out of any awareness of mortality. Like every adolescent, she intended to live forever.” -Thomm Quackenbush
“Live life with grace, there is no return from the grave.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita
I had some time again before my daughters hcokey game so I ventured across the steet to this small cemetery and took these pictures.