It seems like I am always traveling in my dreams, headed somewhere to do something important or necessary. I am never idle. Sometimes I travel in a car that drives itself and every now and then I get a little worried and take over the wheel. Usually I’m doing something outside in the mountains, or going to someone’s house for a party or a meal. Every now and then I lose one of my dogs and I am distressed, but they always find their way back to me. In my dreams, it is always wonderful being around old friends I haven’t seen in forever, or friends long forgotten. Family is always with me. Usually I am having some type of fun, but every now and then I’ll have a scary dream. In them, I am swifter than any lioness, stronger than titanium and I am more wily than a coyote. With those super powers, I always overcome whatever demon is haunting me. Every now and then my mother Lucaria, who died in 2001, shows up in a dream and chastises me for being so frivolous. “Clothes, material items, things don’t make the person, what matters is who you are. How you treat people and yourself” she tells me. I don’t dare tell her how much I paid for my Eileen Fisher boots, or how much wine I drank the night before. Or bad choices I’ve made along the way that ended up hurting me more than anyone else. I wake up with an ache in my heart and missing her when she visits my dreams.
Since I learned about the cancer, waking up from the comfort of my dream is the hardest part of my day. The reality of the diagnosis and the real journey ahead sets in and I am scared. It’s the time I allow myself to weep and feel sorry for myself. Then I remember the list of things I need to do while I am at my best and I rally.
I’m always traveling in my dreams. I have traveled a fair share in my life. I’ve traveled to several countries in Europe and Central America and to the majority of US states. But there is one trip I took that will forever stick in my mind as the mother of all trips. It was a work trip taken in 2001 with a co-worker, Rachel Turner Williams to visit the Havasupai Tribe. Neither of us had flown in a helicopter, or been to the Grand Canyon. The only way to get down to Havasupai is by foot, horseback, or helicopter. We had a helicopter waiting for us on the mesa above Havasupai. Our pilot had flown helicopters in the Viet Nam war and I couldn’t feel safer. He made sure not to pull any fast ones on us and gave us a gentle, awesome ride over the turquoise waterfalls. I’ll never forget the heart stopping hike to the bottom of Mooney Falls and the cluster of dragonflies the size of birds and of every color. To this day I cannot listen to our theme song, “Lenny Kravitz – Fly Away” without thinking of this trip. Havasupai Canyon is one of those places everyone should have on their bucket list.
Dreams. I am so thankful for them.