Life is Healthy

I'm not sure where to start so I'll just jump right in. Last night I dreamed I died. The dream was vivid and realistic—not that I think I'm going to die because of this dream. OK?

The dream started with someone ringing my front door bell. I should've known something was up when it went, "Ding, dong." My front door bell has only gone, "Ding," since I moved in. It has never followed up with a "Dong." (That could go in a completely different direction, couldn't it?) Anyway, I don't remember answering the door, but I ended up running for my life. People, I'm unsure of who these people were, were chasing me. And they wanted me dead. I wound up running down this long tunnel (please don't get Freudian on me). I came out in a desolate area. There were roads going in many different directions. Then, this voice from no where—something like a movie over—announced that a blob from outer space had invaded Earth. The voice said, "There is no escape."

Then I saw the blob closing in on me. There were other people around, but I don't know who they were. I think they were also trying to get away from death. I decided to try to run away anyway, but the blob was now everywhere. I couldn't see a way out. It was coming from every direction—kind of oozing its way along. It was filling up every path and I kind of spun around—looking in every direction but there was, in fact, no way out. Soon, I gave up and decided to meet with my fate. The blob oozed up around my feet. Soon it had engulfed my feet and legs. Then it pulled me under.

The sensation of dying was actually not so bad—it was gradual like fading away. First, I felt like I was losing consciousness—but I still had self awareness. Slowly, I began to lose sight as I was sucked deeper into the blob. Then everything went white—it was like a foggy, bright white light. I thought I would disintegrate. But I didn't—not completely. I thought I would become a part of the blob, and I would lose everything about myself. But I didn't. I still had a self-awareness, despite being dead. Being dead was actually a warm, comforting place to be. Then I noticed that there were other people around me. A man beside me told me not worry. One day, we would all be freed from this place we were being held, and then we would come back.

Unfortunately, I don't know if we came back or not, because this is where I woke up.

This is one of the strangest dreams I've ever had. The themes of it were death and renewal, I'm pretty sure. In the dream, I died. And somehow, I will be renewed. I'm not sure how, but I think I'm coming to terms with something.

Al would've been 50 years old today. I wish I could wish him a happy birthday, but I guess I can't really do that now, can I? Sometime I think about his ashes. I still have them--some in an urn and some in a plastic container because all of his ashes wouldn't fit in a typical urn. I always intended to spread the ashes somewhere in Canaan Valley--that was his favorite place on earth. I remember when the funeral home called and said they just couldn't get him a regular-sized urn and that many times the family chooses to spread the remaining ashes--I thought that would be perfect. But since then I have never been able to let him go. I hang onto the ashes because then I still have him--well, not whole like when he was alive. He's just in a couple of different containers in a bookcase in my bedroom, that's all. But he's still there. (I should say that Al wasn't a fat guy. He just had incredibly large bones. In fact, I had donated his bone marrow and they actually took his hip and thigh bones, and he still wouldn't fit in a regular-sized urn. Now those were some big, ole strong bones.)

Maybe I should let go of the ashes. Maybe it would help me let go of him. I think I'm still hanging onto him. Why? I know he's not coming back. He's not going to need his ashes. I was just thinking: if he does come back, he's going to be really pissed that I gave his suits to charity last Christmas--and I threw out all of his underwear. But what is real? He's not coming back. So what do I do? Figure out how to move on.

As far as exercise goes, I did not go to the gym this morning either. My knee is swollen and stiff. But I've got to keep it moving. So I'll go back tomorrow. And I'll go back to work, too. I just needed a day to collect myself.