Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

Last night I had the strangest, most lovely dream.

I was heading in to MGH for a spot of brain surgery (this NOT being the lovely part). Instead of it being an all day event (my last one went 18 hours), I was told that it would take just a few hours. I pressured Bob to stay home since this wasn’t, supposedly, gonna be a big deal. More though, I didn’t want him to worry. Sure, I was seriously fretting and afraid, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him being stressed out. (Yes, he and I are, essentially The Gift of the Magi writ large)

While waiting for the orderlies to tote me down to the Theater of Cuttage, I was struggling with molto aggressive panic attacks. Just then, a bunch of friends came in to wish me well. They were all happy, cheerful (as I want and need before a big op), saying they’d see me in a few hours. I honestly didn’t believe it would all be complete in that time frame but I didn’t want to leak my grand mas scaredy catness on them.

My last big surgery had, in real life, left me half blind (for six months), unable to walk without assist (about 4 months) and bedridden (for entirely too damn long). I have experience with high levels of suckage. That kinda colors my views/impressions of fresh, new surgical events.

So then, I’m being wheeled away to the OR and, magically, through the wonders of dreamland anesthesia, I’m out like a light, like a cat in the noonday summer sun, like The Manassa Mauler  down for the count BEFORE I get into that too bright, martini-free operating theater.

I woke from that sleep of the dead, back in my hospital room (versus the annoying and, even for a deafie, loud Intensive Care Unit as is the usual), surrounded by those same well wishing friends. Then, and THEN, a new potter friend walked in. To cheer me in my recovery, she’d created a series of  2 layered, hinged tiles. They were brightly glazed carved terra cotta squares. The base layer was a landscape scene with the top being a gate or door which swung open. You could see the landscape framed by the door or open it to see it in full.

They were gorgeous. This is, often enough, how painting and sculpture ideas come to me.

Then, back in dreamville, my surgeon came in. He bade me get up and walk about the room. Now, in real life -- after they’ve tinkered in my head, it’s days before I can get up. In this dream though, I hopped right out of bed. I felt fine. Better than fine. Half my head was shaved but, you know, I’ve always favored the punk look anyway.

I was even able to waltz around the room.

And he told me I could now go home. Again, I was stunned but gathered my gifts and clothes and made to leave, unbelievably happy and relieved. Still not quite believing it was real.

And of course it wasn’t. It was a dream.
Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream -- Simon and Garfunkel