In My Dreams

I'm once again weaning myself from Lorazepam at night, and dreams the last few nights have been big and in technicolor. Tuesday I dreamed I was in the depths of despair; in the dream, my friend Allan helped to talk me out of it, and when I awoke I was restored to sanity. The psychological arena is the big battleground right now; that seems to be where the effects of chemotherapy manifest most strongly. The chemo robs me of interest in things that ordinarily fascinate.

Last night I had two work dreams. In one I was in a sort of work camp. My job was to cook and clean. I had a landing and set of stairs to wash, and a huge tub of meat to form into burgers. First I found a desk and some writing paper, and I was extremely happy to immerse myself in story telling. I had to tear myself away from the writing to do the other work, but the point was that I was writing and enjoying it, something that has felt like it would never happen again. I can't tell you how comforting that was.

The second dream last night was more about aesthetics and the sociology of aesthetics. I was with some extremely sophisticated people, involved in very sophisticated projects they described in annoying polysyllabic terms that meant nothing to anyone but themselves - jargon. To one of them I found myself saying "B*sh*t. Simple, descriptive language is the most effective. Just say what you mean straightforwardly." The rest of the dream was devoted to observing the posturing of the various other participants in the dream, and wondering what I was doing there. This dream, too, comforted me greatly, and made me feel like eventually I will be myself again.

The chemo makes me feel as though I am occupying a skin that belongs to someone else. It's one thing to know intellectually that I will eventually feel more like myself; but in the dreams, I DID feel and behave like myself. I had another dream maybe about a week ago in which I was at the end of a long, picaraesque adventure, and I could see that what seemed very serious and heavy at the time was in fact quite funny. I awoke smiling.

So here's to another day. For me: hydration this morning, acupuncture this afternoon. And for you? Smiles, I hope, and plenty of them.