134. Dream Stuck

Tuesday March 2 2021

I knew last night would be restless sleep and I did what I thought might help, like running a fan with the double purpose for both the white noise and to keep the room a 60-ish degrees cool. After donning thick socks, I burritoed myself into a heavy blanket. Firmly swaddled, I then braced for the obligatory dreams that that bubble up after an emotional day. I wasn’t disappointed.

I need to rephrase that; disappointed is the wrong word to use. The fear and frustration manifested by my subconscious mind is still with me like a hangover. An unsettling theme of control loss that got real personal in some new ways. I was an event that changed venues from a high school play to a church then a home wedding that morphed back into a high school play. Whatever and wherever, it was disorganized and confusing and I couldn’t physically leave. There was no end in sight and no escape. In a particularly inspired attempt to regain control, I tried to load the Uber app on my phone, but downloaded a virus instead. Shit got real when spider scorpions and wet, heavy multi-legged slugs emerged from the phone’s glass screen. As fast as I knocked them off, a new one fell writhing on my legs. It was all rather horrific.

In my dream, I’m stuck and unable to change where I am; only other factors affect this. Meanwhile, a base fear becomes tangibly real.

The details are fading rather fast, even as I record this. I’m left with the residual emotions to process and, of course, the reason for the nocturnal disruptions. It’s a new day, the sun is shining through the living room window this morning, and my dog is sick.

My canine partner for the past eleven years is telling me it’s time to count each day with him as a blessing. He’s lost weight between vet visits, enough to raise concern. The initial blood panel came back as normal, but the vet was still worried. Yesterday, she did x-rays and an ultrasound looking for tumors or other abnormalities hiding inside his golden body of love.

And it’s his liver, she says. Without a biopsy, we can’t know why it’s decreased in size, so much so it was difficult to locate it on the ultrasound. She suggested another type of blood assay to determine current liver function and guide us on what the next steps will be. I agreed, of course. Because I have no idea what to do and I have to trust my veterinarian as the expert she is.

Right now I can’t talk any more about this. I want to tell the world about this amazing creature that is more than just a dog. So much more. But not now, not yet. I hurt and am afraid of what’s next. Especially where any decision I make is a false move, an appearance of being in control when I don’t even have my hands on the steering wheel.

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