Scientists who study sleep claim that human dreams last 5 seconds or less in real time. Read that again. 5 seconds? I don’t know how you feel, but mine feel longer. Significantly longer. Here’s one:
The day is sunny, warm, and bright. The sky is severe clear. Totally blue, like September 11 blue. Perfect. I am stretched out on a beach chair at the ocean as my kids play nearby. My wife has spread a blanket on the sand under an umbrella and is about to feed the kids. I get up and join them. We all eat, laugh and play. Time is not moving. There is only us and now. We are all happy. My family continues to play and suddenly many of our friends appear. They play also. I’m back in the beach chair, but I get up again, shake hands with some buddies, laugh, and play volleyball in the sand. The sound of the waves and everyone enjoying this time is pure bliss. There are white, fair-weather clouds way out over the ocean and a thought quickly rattles through my head:
Enjoy every moment of this; you are surrounded by joy, beauty and love.
Randomly, I hear Brahms mixing with the ocean. My relatives appear, and I’m in the beach chair again. I once more rise, greet everyone with a hug, offer food and socialize. My mind clicks and I wonder why every time someone or something appears on the beach, I am laying on the beach chair. It’s a lounge chair, reclined toward the surf, but I kick my legs down and hop up each time. Maybe it’s my imagination, but each time I pop up, I am getting a bit tired and it’s taking me longer to rise. Must be all of the action.
Still dreaming, I am now sitting at my drums. It’s a small jazz kit, pearl white finish and I am on stage playing swing with musicians who I don’t know. The room is small, warm and empty of people, but we are playing John Coltrane’s Giant Steps at a furious tempo and I have a wide grin on my face. The song ends and I get up from my drum throne (not stool…it’s a throne…drummers are kings and kings occupy the throne), to chat with the musicians about this jam. I slip getting up, from excitement, and I fall behind my kit. I laugh and get off the floor. Flash.
I’m back at the beach. Same as it ever was, save for 2 small differences: the clouds have moved closer, and I am back in the beach-lounge chair but I cannot get up. These changes register in my brain, but cause me no worry. Everything and everyone else is still there. I look right and my drums are there too. Just sitting there unplayed in the sand. I laugh and my kids come over and ask me what’s so funny. Before I can respond, they are climbing on me and dousing me with warm beach sand. It’s so much fun.
Another mind jump in the dream and I am sitting in a large concert hall. There is an orchestra on the stage, but I am in the audience. Some of my musical friends are in the orchestra, but I’m sitting this gig out. I listen although cannot identify the somewhat classical, maybe early romantic period work coming off the stage. The intonation of the group is excellent and I can tell that the conductor is a master. I’m smiling, and happy, although something tugs at me wondering why I am not on the stage. I’m a part of the show, but at the same time, not so much. Weird.
Finally I am on the beach again. The clouds have moved in over the sand and flashes of lightning appear over the ocean. In addition to this, the tide has come in but the water is warm. I realize that I can’t get up. I can move my head, and my arms and legs a little bit, but that’s all. Strangely, I am not in a panic. Quite the contrary, I am comfortable and in awe of nature and the world around me. I call out to my wife and kids to look at the beauty of nature, but they just stand around the beach chair smiling and looking at me. The tide is coming in but I am the only one that realizes I am slowly going to drown. I don’t say anything because the mood here for everyone else is so serene that I don’t want to ruin the party. Surely if the warm, salty ocean is only taking me, then I know I am still dreaming. One by one, and then all at once around my lounge chair, behind my wife and children I see faces of friends, relatives, and people that I love and share laughs with. Some who I am in touch with all of the time, and some that I haven’t interacted with in years. All of the faces are smiling and though there is lightning and rising water, the sun peeks in an out of the clouds and there is only a gentle breeze on my face. In the lounge chair, I’m stuck, but I’m still happy. I take stock of everything I see and smell the ocean air. It’s perfect. I wake up. Perhaps my brain has played this tableau in only 5 seconds, but in reality this dream is a representation for the reader what it has been like to live almost 40 years with my chronic illness. The tide never quite gets me. As long as I am above the water, I’ll surround myself with love and observe the beauty. At the end, what else is there?
Stay safe, stay awesome, and stay tuned.
Patrick moeschen 