Reasonable or not, waking up from an able-bodied dream has always made me feel like maybe my current health issues aren’t permanent.
Most recently, I’ve dreamed about riding my old red Nishiki on Brittlebank Road in my hometown and speed biking on the Lloyd Expressway. I’ve dreamed that I had to go to the bathroom really, really urgently while at a shopping center, and I was able to speed walk to the nearest restroom.
But last night. Ugh…
Not only was my dream body the wreck it is in real life, but I was back working for NAPA Balkamp doing a job I absolutely detested. To make matters worse, they had taken out stairs and railings during some kind of remodeling phase, and I was forced to enter and leave the building using a maze of plywood ramps without any railings to catch myself.
In real life the building has two floors, but no elevators. It’s far from accessible.
But back to the dream. Where possible, I’d lean a shoulder into the wall as I walked along the makeshift platforms. Kind of like when Dan was driving us up Pike’s Peak and I reflexively shifted my weight to the center of the car.
Just keep away from the edge.
But there were parts of the plywood platform maze that were completely open. I was dizzy. I looked down at my feet to see that—as in real life—my feet weren’t quite able to do what my brain was instructing. I told my able-bodied coworkers to just go around me, and I contemplated sitting down and giving up.
That’s when I woke up, overwhelmed by a sense of defeat.
In a way, applying for my medical marijuana card has required that I own my fibromyalgia diagnosis. Maybe that’s created a psychological shift that’s manifest in my dreams now?