Delays and Dreams

The second operation was due on 29th November, but a few days before the hospital phoned to say it had been postponed to 10th December. This couldn’t be helped, and they’ve tried to do their best to fit me in on the next soonest date. But I still found it hard to deal with this. I’d prepared for the date mentally, as well as practically, and the delay has meant that all the preparations have had to be changed. As it’s getting closer to Christmas, it’s also making it difficult to find someone to stay with me afterwards. I’m trying not to get too anxious about this, but I do feel I’ll need to have someone stay overnight even if just for the first few days for reassurance that there’s someone in the house if something happens. I usually feel I can take things in my stride and be fairly strong, but something like this makes me feel very vulnerable. Being independent is fine, however the reality of being human is that we’re interdependent, and need each other, rely on each other, and have to ‘be’ together in order to ‘be’. Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says: ‘‘“To be” is to inter-be. You cannot be by yourself alone. You have to inter-be with every other thing.’ (The Heart of Understanding, Parallax Press, 1988: 4). This is really brought home at times of physical and mental vulnerability, and also of course relates to our collective action in addressing pressing world concerns of the environment and social justice.

On another thought, perhaps because I haven’t been able to travel outside my home town for the past three months since the operation, I’ve been having vivid dreams about travelling to other places. . A few nights ago I dreamed I was going up a mountain in a train. I’ve dreamt about this mountain before, the same one, many times, with different stories and people. Last night my father was there, and we were talking about the mountain, and taking photographs. The mountain journey is vivid, and stays with me in the waking world – I can conjure it now, while other dream places and stories vanish on waking and can’t be grasped or remembered. There are a few places like this that I dream about over and over, and feel real to me in the waking world, though I’ve never seen them other than in dreams. Are they ‘real’? Do they exist somewhere, and maybe one day I’ll turn a corner, and there they’ll be? Or are they purely neurons firing and re-firing in patterns that have created stones, landscapes, people, countries, that have no substance outside my head? I wrote this poem about a house and streets I dream about many times. The house is somewhere I’d like to live, though have no idea where it actually is. Or even if it actually is. But I know it when I’m there in the dreams. Does that make it ‘not real’?

 Do dreams create places?
I’ve been to the same house many times,
Walked the same three streets of a town.
I know the colours of the walls
And the fronts of the shops.
 
I’ve lived many lives and stories in those walls and streets.
In dreams they’re named as being in real places
Yet aren’t part of them in the waking world.
 
The things that have happened there,
Marches, songs, shopping, encounters with friends, family, strangers, ghosts.
Stories played out that happened somewhere not-here.
Or even not there, really.
 
But I know those streets,
The gradient of the slope, the way they connect at the top.
 
The house is not on those streets;
It has no surroundings or location.
 
But in the middle is a courtyard, surrounded by a high open verandah upstairs
Leading to rooms with heavy wooden doors.
In the courtyard is a garden, open to the air.
 
This house is somewhere I’ve lived, visited, loved, and escaped to
Over and over, with people known and imagined.
 
These places are not real, but they are created;
And being creations, they exist.
 

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