The rain was crashing down again outside the window, but the world outside would never be the same. I’d been given new eyes, and the nightmare that so abruptly, and almost accurately, materialized, took shape in everything surrounding me, to the point where there was nothing in me, nothing in my life, that it didn’t touch.
When I got home from the hospital on Saturday night and saw the blog that I’d last posted, it sent a cold chill down my spine. I’d never imagined when I wrote that Friday morning - a week and a day before - that by that night, before I could even close my eyes to sleep, the world would change in such a similar fashion - only this time, I wouldn’t have the red blanket to draw near to - though I found myself reaching for it so many times in the night over the course of my stay. Something about that color, that blanket, that reminded me of the full red moon I witnessed unlike any we had ever seen before, that recalled for me how cold my skin had been against the chair up on the roof and how soft it felt against my legs. In one instance, those nights were lost to me, and even though I couldn’t see the sky for so many days, I knew it would never be the same sky again, that nothing would ever again seem as beautiful, and the fact that I was unable to get outside did not matter as much as the fact that the world I knew had disappeared, much like a dream upon waking, in spite of what a wonderful dream it had been.
We often can’t control our dreams, but when we sense that we are dreaming and anticipate that we’ll be woken, we cling to the images, we try to stay longer (as I did this morning), and it’s seldom our fault when we wake and the dream is lost and we cannot remember. Sadly, in life, there are choices we make; we can choose, whether it’s our intention or not, to shatter the very dreams we build, if we try to hold on too hard. I wish that I had believed those words when I first heard them, and while wishing does precious little to turn back time, I learn from them what I can now, I carry them with me; I don’t forget.