In Dreams

I've been having vivid dreams of late, some might call them nightmares. Images of mom seizing flash forward without much warning. Last night was Craig's turn, and the way he looked this morning seemed like he had wandered through my dreams himself.

His fatigue has increased considerably since returning from the mountains. He pulled from reserves probably few of us have. As the hospice folks say, Craig has an incredible will to live and that will power kept him in the mountains, partaking in the activities he chose for us, achieving his goals.

A waterfront view was our parting shot Thursday afternoon. We rolled down to the dock where stacks of kayaks rested in the summer sun. We parked Craig feet from the water and sat there quietly watching the cloud's reflections dance on the waves. It's interesting how moments that we may otherwise take for granted -- a car ride through the mountains, sitting by the water, taking brief walks down gravel roads -- are as revered as that dream honeymoon vacation once concocted as a kid. It doesn't necessarily matter where we are or what we are doing. What matters most is being with Craig, sitting with Craig, talking with Craig in recognition that "with Craig" will one day no longer be possible.

We're in Denver now. Last night, we watched the Olympics' opening night festivities in Craig's room. Craig rested in his new hospital bed as the rest of us sat cross-legged on his bed or floor. The atmosphere felt jovial and light like a slumber party; all we needed was the familiar fruit punch mom would buy us, and perhaps homemade popcorn (not the bagged junk). Sarcastic remarks partnered with random ooo's, ahhh's and holy craps littered the room. They had to leave the oldest torch runner to dangle from the air, didn't they? We all yelped when his harness popped to allow "air running". Dad, in particular, hoped "the senior" wouldn't fall and disgrace his age-range. After watching explosion after explosion in the grand finale firework show, Craig quipped, "they thought they were in clean air compliance before...well not anymore" (said in a sing-song voice). This is only a snippet of the irreverent, lighthearted humor that permeated Craig's apartment last night.

This mood and these feelings don't always follow me to sleep, despite how tightly I hold onto them. It's a personal and perhaps scary aspect to write about but last night, I dreamt of Craig, of his condition, of a premature funeral where he was still alive. I jolted from the horror, and stared at Craig to watch his chest for signs of life just as I had in the dream. Thankfully, he was peacefully breathing. Despite looking more haggard, jaundiced, and dark around his eyes this morning, he's been "up and at em" -- showered, dressed, ready for Boulder. Dreams are just dreams, after all. ~E