Dreams

I want a dream lover so I don't have to dream alone …
Bobby Darin, March 5, 1959


In my next life, I have often stated I’d like to return as a house cat. House cats have the best lives. They have no deadlines, no pressures, no bills to pay or futures to worry about. They can lie in the sun for as long as they like. They come and go as they please and need very little to achieve happiness. Toss a cat a wadded up piece of paper and it will bat it around for hours. Best of all, cats sleep about 16 hours a day.

The next best thing to a cat’s life would be the life of the mighty grizzly bear. If I’m going to be a bear, I’m going to be a grizzly.

When fall turns to winter and the temperature begins to dip, bears start to think about hibernation. During hibernation, bears do not eat, drink or defecate, their urea is reabsorbed through the bladder wall and safely converted into usable amino acids and proteins. Their metabolism, breathing and heart rate slow down, and even though their digestive organs and kidneys practically shut down, the bear is fine. They exist solely on fat and fluids within their body. Bears have been known to hibernate for up to eight months.

Can you imagine what a bear dreams about during that time? Other bears? Other woodsy creatures? Do they have dreams about flying or falling from great heights? Do they dream about dying? Do they remember their dreams when they awaken?

There are times when I think hibernating for a few months or taking a 16 hour cat nap would be much more enjoyable than this drama I call my life. Nighttime has become my favorite time of day. No mater how many worries or concerns or problems, they all go away when I crawl in to bed. They all disappear in my dreams.

There are people who claim they don’t dream. Scientists have proven that all warm-blooded creatures dream. Newborn babies dream about 8 hours per day. The average adult dreams about 90 minutes a day.

When I woke up this morning, I knew it had snowed. The sunlight shines differently through the bedroom curtains after a snowstorm. The world becomes muffled and still as if time has stopped.

I always wake up slowly. I am never in a hurry to leave my warm dream world. As I got up this morning, I realized my alarm had yet to sound. I was stealing precious minutes from the night to look at the freshly fallen snow. I do not allow my day to begin until I’m sure all the night has been used up. I will often set my alarm for an odd time with hope that a dream will not end too soon. Once the day officially begins, the dreams are over.

Outside, cars and trucks plow through the slush of darkening snow. Reality continues to intrude. There is little I can do now to stop it.

If there were a way I could remain in my dream world forever, I think I would do it. I have experienced enough reality for this lifetime. It would mean becoming a creature of the night, but I must admit I feel more comfortable with them than I do the inhabitants of daytime. I would miss the sunlight, but the sacrifice would be worth it. As it is now, I hang on to my nights until my strength wears out. Only then do I accept what the day has to offer.

My nights are filled with dreams. Dreams have become what I live for. My dreams rival any tale of fairy tale kings and queens and castles. My dreams are larger than any movie or best selling novel. Even the nightmares are welcome. Nightmares may haunt me and torture me and leave me breathless and scared, yet they always end. At some point I am rescued or saved by a fearless knight on a gallant steed, or I find my way out of my own dilemma. This rarely happens in the daylight. If I could live beneath the warm sheets and blankets of my dreams forever, I would. But as always, they slip away when I waken.

If only there was a way I could hold on to these dreams. A marker I could place between the pages while I am awake and taking on the battles of the day. A way to save my place from the cold rush of reality.

This morning was treating me no differently than it ever did. It took my dreams, leaving me in a world that was much too cold. I shivered as I looked out at the whitened land.

The cold fosters a painful wakefulness. It reminds me that I have to get out of bed. I have to go to work. I have to leave my warm dreams.

Every morning it is the same. If I could only have one more minute of sleep. So much can happen in a minute in a dream. In sleep there would be a man next to me. The one who lies close to me at night. The one who cradles me in his strong arms and sleeps with his head against my neck. The beautiful God-like being who keeps me safe from harm and the approaching light of day.

The longer I stand before the window, the more the dream begins to fade. I must face the fact that the dawn has won again. It is time to say goodbye to my sleeping prince. He will be waiting for me when darkness falls. This is the thought that I hang on to. This is what gets me through the day.

Some mornings I can still feel the touch of his hand on my cheek. His warm fingerprints remain on my skin as the dream slowly fades into the coldness of reality. Some mornings, all I feel is the cold. Winter is such a cruel season.

There is nothing sadder than the thought of leaving my beautiful prince alone in my bed. Alone in my mind. I have tried to take him with me on my silent ride into work, but he does not travel well. His image flickers in and out like a Christmas tree light and he looks more ghost-like than God-like. Gods were not meant to ride in cars.

I suppose I could live without my dream companion, but there are times when he is all I have to look forward to. With no one to share my day with, nights have become my salvation. When I lay down to sleep, he is there. His touch so gentle, his words so soothing. Waking has become a punishment for having such secret relationship.

I walk away from the empty bed and prepare myself to face the day.

The snow crunches beneath my tires. The clank of snowplow blades on the road and the splat of slush against my windshield make me long to be in the arms of my gentle giant. I think of him sleeping quietly. His hair mussed, his arms and legs spread out over the bed. He will keep it warm for me.

While my God sleeps, the world awakens. It pulls at me from all directions to join it. The number of cars on the road increase and the pace quickens. The sun rises slowly in the east. There is no turning back now.

My eyes burn as I walk into the hot room. The last few memories of the dream are gone. Indiscriminate objects and sounds catch my attention. A paperclip on the floor, wet footprints across the blue carpeting, a burned out light bulb, the smell of coffee, the clack of fingers on a keyboard, mumbling from offices. All the sorts of things that remind me where I am. This is not a dream. All the usual sorts of things that follow me from room to room and hour to hour. These objects will not fade away.

The room no longer seems warm. It has become a tomb. The only dreams in here are stretched out dead on the cold floor. I sit down at my desk and turn on my 21 inch view of the world for the next eight hours.

And then, there he is. Not exactly my dream God, but the basis for my beloved prince. The man who keeps my world balanced. The man who keeps me awake so I can return to my dreams with fresh thoughts and feelings. So God-like in many ways, but still just a man.

This man I cannot touch. I can only watch and memorize his every move, his every word. We barely talk except for a “good morning” as he walks by. Such confidence, such independence. Wise and understanding with a knowledge of the world that comes from the heart. Always calm, always relaxed, seeming to know intuitively what is called for at any moment. All the qualities great dreams are made of.

If things were different, perhaps. Perhaps reality wouldn’t feel so cold and harsh. Perhaps we could be together in the daylight as well as the night. But for now, I wait for the day to fade. Soon I will be back in my car with the sun setting behind me. Soon I will be warm, pleasantly warm. Soon I will be asleep and reclaiming my dreams. I can almost feel his touch on my cheek, his breath on my neck. I can hear the beating of his heart - strong, steady, reassuring.

Soon, soon, soon.


…Dream lover, until then,
I'll go to sleep and dream again
That's the only thing to do