Dream Machine

I sat in the back seat of my parent’s car while we raced down a dark country road.

My mother and father, long since gone from this world, were sitting up front as we drove through an incredibly dark forest.

This was a dream, of course, and it was about to turn into a nightmare.

I haven’t dreamt about either one of my parents for a long time and I don’t think I’ve ever dreamt about them together.

I used to travel a lot with my parents when I was younger, so the image of me sitting in the back seat of their car is definitely rooted in reality.

During this dream ride, the only thing I could see was the twisting road ahead dimly illuminated by the headlight’s beams.

I don’t know where the hell we were, but wherever it was, I could sense that it was cold, remote, and dangerous.

And it got a lot more dangerous when my father keeled over behind the wheel.

I could see his head rolling from side to side as the car started flying all over the road and I heard my mother screaming—and I’m sure I was doing a fair bit of screeching myself.

Now this is the point where most of my nightmares end: something horrible is about to happen and then I wake up yelling and waving my arms in the dark at all sorts of imaginary ghosts and ghouls.

But this the dream kept going—and so did the car, faster and faster. Finally, I leaned over my father’s shoulder, pulled the key out of the ignition, and the car came to a stop.

And then I woke up.

So how to interpret this? Well, there’s certainly the fear of losing control and taking the ignition key suggests that I was taking hold of my life and breaking free of my childhood.

Situation Well in Hand

Hell, I’m 60 years old so maybe this is a good time to finally say adios to all that kid stuff.

“You saved the day,” Fred the Shrink told me when I shared the dream with him. “Be happy with that.”

Oh, I’m very happy with that. I’m going through some difficulties right now and I’m a bit nervous about the future. If nothing else, this dream may be a pep talk from my subconscious that I can save myself should my life spin out of control.

My father was a World War II veteran and whenever I was upset or worried about something he would remind me of his army division’s motto: Fortior Ex Asperis, which means “stronger through adversity.”

It’s a shame that I’m only starting to appreciate much of the advice my parents gave me now that they’re gone.

But then I’m sure wanted their encouraging words to live on after them. It just sucks that I can’t thank them for all they’ve done for me.

This army motto is particularly meaningful in light of my accident and surgery.

The recovery continues and this week I’ve been walking about two miles every morning to build up my legs.

I’m not going to set any speed records, but this is a vast improvement over using a walker or trying to move with those awful leg braces.

On Thursday I ran into a friend from the neighborhood whom I hadn’t seen in months. She was walking her dog on Shore Road and I told her about my accident. Well, it turned out that she was on the disabled list, too, after falling down in February and breaking her wrist.

She went through the surgery and rehab routine, too, and she’s just getting back to the world. And to top it off my auntie is in the hospital recovering from hip replacement surgery.

There are a lot of damaged people out there and they’re heading down some rough roads. But if we can grab those ignition keys, then we can end up being stronger through adversity.