Whenever some aspect of my life spins out of control, you can bet that one particular person will show up in my dreams.
It only makes sense, really: the first time I needed to retake control of my own life, he was there and gave me the guts to do it. He believed I could, and eventually his faith in me bore fruit. And so, here I am.
I know why I'm having tortured dreams these days. The upcoming trip to Houston and all the tests. The lump I can see in the side of my neck, and the trouble I'm having swallowing. I'm justifiably nervous -- OK, not-so-justifiably petrified -- that I'll need more surgery. On the bad days, I think I've got brain metastases, or that I'll need beam radiation, or something truly horrid. (It's kind of funny how "neck dissection surgery" doesn't even rate "truly horrid" on my terror scale anymore; since I've been through it already, it's a known quantity, and that helps a lot.)
Still, knowing why I'm having these dreams doesn't mean I appreciate this guy, who will always own a piece of my heart just as I will always own a piece of his, however small, showing up in my dreams and putting questions to me that he would never ask in Real Life. But in the dreams, we're back where we were 15 years ago, only we're not.
It's confusing. Dreams are, right? But it pisses me off that the dream-me will be on the brink of making an obviously bad decision -- changing her mind after being firmly set against that wrong choice -- and that's when I wake up.
What I really want is to reset my unconscious so that I dream something else when I'm feeling out of control. Why does it always have to be the same thing?
At least I have the benefit of recognizing it for what it is, now.