dream, visions and dying
Apr. 2nd, 2004 08:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethSometimes I get a dream that feels like its kind of big and important somehow. Or just beautiful. And often once I write it down it seems actually pretty small, or not that beautiful to anyone but me, but writing it down still seems the thing to do. And mostly people don't want to read about dreams, but I dont think I'll be turning this one into a story, so this is all the writing it likely to get.
what I dreamed:
I was having visions, like message visions, & then I discovered I was dying. I decided I was not taking the painkillers so as to still be able to get visions right up until the end. Which is in approximately 48 hours
how to spend my last 48 hours on earth?
go to a convention and party of course!
okay, very small convention, very small party.
sit through some of the introduction bits but then decide to be elsewhere until the dancing bit starts.
I work with a team, probably military, and some of them know my diagnosis and get... tense. They want to be nice and kind and helpful and all of that, but they are too busy dealing with their reaction to the news. I have no spare capacity to deal with their dealing, so I just decide to hide it from the youngest in the team. She knows I'm hiding something, she starts to bug me about what it could be, thinks its because she is youngest I'm thinking her incompetent, like I dont need to keep her in the loop. Yada. Like I have time for her issues right now? So I walk away, go find a bench and lie down.
It's winter. Theres a thin covering of snow everywhere, but the bench has already been brushed off. It is dry on there, but cold. Theres a bit of red mud on the end of the bench I want to rest my head on, and I chip and brush at it until its dust and gone. Then I lie down. The bench is wide, too wide really to be comfortable for sitting up, you have to be extra tall to reach the back and the back is extra short, just a couple of planks. So mostly people perch here rather than sit. But it is just right for lying, with the planks as a windbreak at your back. But obviously lying down outside in public is strange and people dont much do it. (this isnt set in a studenty place then) (probably a military base, but there were lots of non uniforms and very few uniforms. Right outside a base? Around town where a base is nearby?)
Some of the others are hovering near, trying to get me to go inside, stay warm. like that will make a difference. Less than 48 hours now, but my brain refuses to do a countdown. 48 is still hugely too few. But I dont say anything to the hovering people, just keep on with the dust the bench and lie down plan.
Then Jack comes wandering up to us and wonders whats the what. (Jack from Stargate. Why my brain chose him I dont know, except gorgeous). He is our team leader, and he is on vacation of the no pagers kind, so him being back here is total bonus. He wonders, so I tell him. I'm dying, I'm going to lie here a minute, and would he stay a while with me?
Jack goes still for a moment, then agrees, sits down on the bench with me, lets me lie real close to him, head near his leg. He looks at me and theres none of the hurt or panic or terror that lurks right under everyone elses eyes. Theres just his chocolate brown gaze, steady and warm and compassionate, like it always is with me. Always. And I think this is why I chose to tell him and try not to tell the others, but then I realise. I didnt have anything to say to them. Everything that needed saying with them has been said. But with Jack... unfinished business. Big time.
"The others think I'm in love with you." I tell him. Said others have drifted away, trying to be subtle about leaving me alone with him. I'm only peripherally aware of this. I'm only peripherally aware of anything, except Jack. I'm all shut down, and this one thing woke me up again.
"Yeah?" he prompts. It isn't exactly a declaration, so he doesnt know if anything needs doing with it, let alone what.
"Yeah. I don't know though. It might be love. Its wanting to be with you, but also kinda wanting to be you."
"Only natural." He jokes. Because, you know, being Jack is the coolest thing ever.
"I'm still trying to figure it out. Only, you know, dying. So time becomes a factor. So I say."
Then I give him my journal to read. He starts at the end, finds out as much as I know about the dying thing, flips back through it a few pages. Moves closer to me. Puts down the book. There isnt anything we need to know in the book. We've been living it. So.
Everyone is walking past, pretty much ignoring us, all bundled up for warmth. Mostly much more warmly dressed than me or Jack. I know why I'm courting hypothermia, because pretty much numb anyway, but Jack just always dresses like this, like cold is not a factor for him. He moves so we're both lying there, him between me and the back of the bench, so I can leave if I wanna, not shut in. Can feel him, warm. Not wanting to leave. He is such a steady presence, like this thing with me dying doesnt even rock him. Earth people, take it all and keep standing. Yeah, Jack is definitely earthy. But it doesnt feel like he doesnt care. He is there. Completely, and in that moment, there.
I say something about how everyone is walking around oblivious, like death isnt even among them. He says not everyone. The lady in the feather coat is mourning her daughter right now. I turn to look the way he is pointing and see what my eyes completely missed before. Its like the whole world refocuses a little, and the buildings and the people arent the whole story no more. Theres a bird, little yellow bird with its feathers all windblown, standing next to a hole in the ground. Wings all awkward, raised and lowered, like it doesnt know what to do with them. Feathers all fluffed big one moment and blown back the next. Very little bird. Lost. And if Jack says mourning, then mourning, because Jack always knows this stuff.
He takes my hand and directs my attention to the big slope out past the buildings, between people places and the woods. Again the change in focus, and all thats relevant is the treeline, the slope, the three bodies running. Two little fox cubs, fluffy but tiny, and a wolf cub following, so much bigger than they are already but still small by his own standards. Little red foxes, little blue wolf. Feels kinda like a vision, but also like its the realest thing I've ever seen.
Redirect again, and a couple of... I want to say squirrels, but they were brown with white stripes, so I guess chipmunks... are running across the ground only a few meters away, dodging between peoples feet even. I know the ground is frozen solid so they cannot get to their caches. Coming into the people places is a big risk for them, but otherwise they die.
"Winter sucks." I say. "The other seasons suck too, but at least Winter is honest about it." Snow, cold, death everywhere.
So Jack takes our joined hands and gestures towards a building right in front of us. I can feel him. Not just behind me, around me. Sometimes he would look at a thing so intensely you would think he had laser vision, you expect it to catch on fire. This is that intense, but not that focused. This isnt about just one object, this is about the world. He is - we are - part of the whole world, in that moment, and the moment is so complete it feels kind of like forever.
He moves our hands like we're touching the snow, like we were all the way across there and could just brush the snow away- and it moves. First one side, then the other, then down the middle to brush the last bits away. From meters away he does this. And underneath the snow is a pipe and a set of shutters, which open at his- our- gesture. And behind the shutters there is fire, banked carefully to last a long time.
At our next gesture it flares. I can feel it, but it feels warm, not burning. Warm like it looks, beautiful. Springs up flamey, flares bright. "Go ahead." Jack encourages, and with our joined hands I gesture again, and the flames get higher. He does this. WE do this. And its magic. And I can feel it, that this is the kind of magic that waits there all the time, and I am part of it.
Jack waves again, closes the shutters on one side. Other people notice they are open on the other and shut them before he can. Which is important, because either its real to other people too or the vision is getting really detailed.
I don't know what happens next. Part of me was thinking 'miracle! maybe Jack can save me!', but it was a pretty small part. A lot of me is just feeling the moment, feeling Jack, feeling *connected* in a fundamental way. Also realising, this is what the world is like for him. This is where he lives. I might get the visions, but he lives in this wider world all the time. Not alone. Important ways, not alone.
So what the most important part of me is realising, feeling completely, is that even if there is no miracle it doesnt matter. This is life. This is being part of life. And whatever happens, its okay.
what I dreamed:
I was having visions, like message visions, & then I discovered I was dying. I decided I was not taking the painkillers so as to still be able to get visions right up until the end. Which is in approximately 48 hours
how to spend my last 48 hours on earth?
go to a convention and party of course!
okay, very small convention, very small party.
sit through some of the introduction bits but then decide to be elsewhere until the dancing bit starts.
I work with a team, probably military, and some of them know my diagnosis and get... tense. They want to be nice and kind and helpful and all of that, but they are too busy dealing with their reaction to the news. I have no spare capacity to deal with their dealing, so I just decide to hide it from the youngest in the team. She knows I'm hiding something, she starts to bug me about what it could be, thinks its because she is youngest I'm thinking her incompetent, like I dont need to keep her in the loop. Yada. Like I have time for her issues right now? So I walk away, go find a bench and lie down.
It's winter. Theres a thin covering of snow everywhere, but the bench has already been brushed off. It is dry on there, but cold. Theres a bit of red mud on the end of the bench I want to rest my head on, and I chip and brush at it until its dust and gone. Then I lie down. The bench is wide, too wide really to be comfortable for sitting up, you have to be extra tall to reach the back and the back is extra short, just a couple of planks. So mostly people perch here rather than sit. But it is just right for lying, with the planks as a windbreak at your back. But obviously lying down outside in public is strange and people dont much do it. (this isnt set in a studenty place then) (probably a military base, but there were lots of non uniforms and very few uniforms. Right outside a base? Around town where a base is nearby?)
Some of the others are hovering near, trying to get me to go inside, stay warm. like that will make a difference. Less than 48 hours now, but my brain refuses to do a countdown. 48 is still hugely too few. But I dont say anything to the hovering people, just keep on with the dust the bench and lie down plan.
Then Jack comes wandering up to us and wonders whats the what. (Jack from Stargate. Why my brain chose him I dont know, except gorgeous). He is our team leader, and he is on vacation of the no pagers kind, so him being back here is total bonus. He wonders, so I tell him. I'm dying, I'm going to lie here a minute, and would he stay a while with me?
Jack goes still for a moment, then agrees, sits down on the bench with me, lets me lie real close to him, head near his leg. He looks at me and theres none of the hurt or panic or terror that lurks right under everyone elses eyes. Theres just his chocolate brown gaze, steady and warm and compassionate, like it always is with me. Always. And I think this is why I chose to tell him and try not to tell the others, but then I realise. I didnt have anything to say to them. Everything that needed saying with them has been said. But with Jack... unfinished business. Big time.
"The others think I'm in love with you." I tell him. Said others have drifted away, trying to be subtle about leaving me alone with him. I'm only peripherally aware of this. I'm only peripherally aware of anything, except Jack. I'm all shut down, and this one thing woke me up again.
"Yeah?" he prompts. It isn't exactly a declaration, so he doesnt know if anything needs doing with it, let alone what.
"Yeah. I don't know though. It might be love. Its wanting to be with you, but also kinda wanting to be you."
"Only natural." He jokes. Because, you know, being Jack is the coolest thing ever.
"I'm still trying to figure it out. Only, you know, dying. So time becomes a factor. So I say."
Then I give him my journal to read. He starts at the end, finds out as much as I know about the dying thing, flips back through it a few pages. Moves closer to me. Puts down the book. There isnt anything we need to know in the book. We've been living it. So.
Everyone is walking past, pretty much ignoring us, all bundled up for warmth. Mostly much more warmly dressed than me or Jack. I know why I'm courting hypothermia, because pretty much numb anyway, but Jack just always dresses like this, like cold is not a factor for him. He moves so we're both lying there, him between me and the back of the bench, so I can leave if I wanna, not shut in. Can feel him, warm. Not wanting to leave. He is such a steady presence, like this thing with me dying doesnt even rock him. Earth people, take it all and keep standing. Yeah, Jack is definitely earthy. But it doesnt feel like he doesnt care. He is there. Completely, and in that moment, there.
I say something about how everyone is walking around oblivious, like death isnt even among them. He says not everyone. The lady in the feather coat is mourning her daughter right now. I turn to look the way he is pointing and see what my eyes completely missed before. Its like the whole world refocuses a little, and the buildings and the people arent the whole story no more. Theres a bird, little yellow bird with its feathers all windblown, standing next to a hole in the ground. Wings all awkward, raised and lowered, like it doesnt know what to do with them. Feathers all fluffed big one moment and blown back the next. Very little bird. Lost. And if Jack says mourning, then mourning, because Jack always knows this stuff.
He takes my hand and directs my attention to the big slope out past the buildings, between people places and the woods. Again the change in focus, and all thats relevant is the treeline, the slope, the three bodies running. Two little fox cubs, fluffy but tiny, and a wolf cub following, so much bigger than they are already but still small by his own standards. Little red foxes, little blue wolf. Feels kinda like a vision, but also like its the realest thing I've ever seen.
Redirect again, and a couple of... I want to say squirrels, but they were brown with white stripes, so I guess chipmunks... are running across the ground only a few meters away, dodging between peoples feet even. I know the ground is frozen solid so they cannot get to their caches. Coming into the people places is a big risk for them, but otherwise they die.
"Winter sucks." I say. "The other seasons suck too, but at least Winter is honest about it." Snow, cold, death everywhere.
So Jack takes our joined hands and gestures towards a building right in front of us. I can feel him. Not just behind me, around me. Sometimes he would look at a thing so intensely you would think he had laser vision, you expect it to catch on fire. This is that intense, but not that focused. This isnt about just one object, this is about the world. He is - we are - part of the whole world, in that moment, and the moment is so complete it feels kind of like forever.
He moves our hands like we're touching the snow, like we were all the way across there and could just brush the snow away- and it moves. First one side, then the other, then down the middle to brush the last bits away. From meters away he does this. And underneath the snow is a pipe and a set of shutters, which open at his- our- gesture. And behind the shutters there is fire, banked carefully to last a long time.
At our next gesture it flares. I can feel it, but it feels warm, not burning. Warm like it looks, beautiful. Springs up flamey, flares bright. "Go ahead." Jack encourages, and with our joined hands I gesture again, and the flames get higher. He does this. WE do this. And its magic. And I can feel it, that this is the kind of magic that waits there all the time, and I am part of it.
Jack waves again, closes the shutters on one side. Other people notice they are open on the other and shut them before he can. Which is important, because either its real to other people too or the vision is getting really detailed.
I don't know what happens next. Part of me was thinking 'miracle! maybe Jack can save me!', but it was a pretty small part. A lot of me is just feeling the moment, feeling Jack, feeling *connected* in a fundamental way. Also realising, this is what the world is like for him. This is where he lives. I might get the visions, but he lives in this wider world all the time. Not alone. Important ways, not alone.
So what the most important part of me is realising, feeling completely, is that even if there is no miracle it doesnt matter. This is life. This is being part of life. And whatever happens, its okay.