... and other assorted dreams...
Meds.
Love’em.
Hate’em.
They CAN be good for laughs.
Ed’s cancer had come back in 2019, and we were in the beginning stages of a new treatment. One night, while laying in bed, I was on my tablet scrolling through something or writing. Hubby was busy sawing logs next to me, and had been doing so for about two minutes. Suddenly he raised his head a bit, looked at me and said,
“What kind of cake did you bake?”
Me: “ Ummm…what?”
Hubby: “ What kind of cake did you bake?”
Me: “Umm… cake? I didn’t bake any cake.”
He had, in those 2 minutes of sleep, dreamt that I had baked a cake and that he was sitting at the kitchen island, watching me slice off the top of the cake to flatten it. In his dream, he was asking me what kind of cake I had made.
What a laugh we both had about it! I talked and laughed about it for days… teasing him mercilessly. Teehee.
Ed was on several different meds through all his treatment. You know the kind, “this medicine may cause this, this, and this, and in severe cases, even death.” At least one of these particular meds gave him quick and very vivid delusions… er… dreams.
I remember another night soon afterwards, we had attended a Green Bay Packers game. There was still so much excitement as we drove home...so much adrenaline! We finally made it to bed, though Ed was very restless while trying to fall asleep. He kept drifting off briefly and continually dreaming that he was still in the stadium cheering on the Pack! He kept jumping and startling himself awake. I suppose if you’re gonna dream of reliving a moment over and over - cheering your team on would be a good one to relive! We won, by the way! (23-20)
And then there was one time where Ed was coming out of a dream. He simply stated,
“Is this the part where we have half an hour to figure out what to do? You know, before we self-destruct?”
Looking back on that one… it might seem it was a foreshadowing of what was ahead for us. We tried to figure out every step of what was next along the way… and I do believe, for the most part, that we made the right decisions. I say, “for the most part,” because there are still things that I question to this day that maybe should have been done differently. But if we look at the ultimate “ending,” it would seem it was the way it was to be and that our family unit did “self-destruct.” On Mission Impossible, the main character, Ethan Hunt, is sent a tape to listen to. The message always starts, “Your mission, should you choose to accept it…”. At the end of the message, it usually says something like, “This tape will self-destruct in 5 seconds.” This means that whoever originally made the tape, programmed it to have a certain ending at a certain time, ending with destruction. Looking at this from this side of Heaven, Ed’s days were already preset by God… God gave him a mission and the time for the completion of that mission was done the day that he died. This side of heaven, much was lost and there was devastation in our hearts and lives. An ending. So Ed’s question from his dream was not all that far-fetched… time flew and it certainly felt like we only had a half an hour until the dismantling of our family structure.
Dreams are a strange phenomenon to me. I have had some very strange dreams, some comforting dreams, and some realistic dreams that were like messages from God just for me. Have you ever had one of those dreams that were so vivid? The kind that when you wake up, you startle, pause and gasp because you are sure that it was really happening? Kind of like Ed’s, “What kind of cake did you bake” dream? That happened to me recently. It has left me teetering since this dream visited me in my sleeping hours. Teetering, meaning that I think I am caught between the past… and the future.
I was at a camping resort with all my family. I did not see who all was there but I know that they were all there. I got up from our campfire to go to the bathroom. A lady that I did not recognize was driving by and asked if I wanted to ride with her up to the restrooms. I said, “Sure” … it was a family place… nothing could happen, right? There was familiarity even though the face that looked back at me was unknown. Well, we passed the first turn for the bathrooms and I just told her that was okay, we could make a sharp left at the next turn and go through the tunnel and there would be other restrooms.
She didn’t take the turn. I asked her why. She did not answer.
The next thing I knew, we were merging onto a highway. I thought that she must not like to take such a sharp turn around. Surely she would get off at the next exit and return to the resort!
She didn’t.
She just kept going.
I kept asking her why she wouldn’t go back… my family needed me. She never once answered me. I guess at this point, time fast forwarded and I found myself somewhere several miles away in a strange hotel. I tried to call my family but the phone was broken. Then I broke down in tears begging this woman to tell me why she wouldn’t take me back. I told her that my family had surely called the police by now… they needed me to return.
And that is when I woke up.
Throughout that day, I briefly remembered the dream here and there, but it wasn’t until that evening when I was preparing for bed that I really stopped in my tracks. And just like a lightbulb turning on, God told me what the dream meant… I was not only the passenger, but I was the driver too! What? Oh my. These were the thoughts that God laid into my mind:
ME the passenger: This was me wanting… begging desperately to go back where I was… maybe even before Ed died (I am sure he was at the campfire). I was frightened without him… without them. I was desiring greatly to be near my family needing to be surrounded by them… not wanting to be “alone.” Or move forward to anywhere!
ME the driver: This was me trying to somehow keep moving forward no matter the voices I hear around me… needing to run forward. Needing to be alone… with myself. With Jesus.
When this dream occurred, I was 15 months on this side of last embracing my hubby and I desperately didn't want to leave him… I wanted things to go back to the way they were. As if they could. He was my everything… my steady… my hero. Every ounce within me longs to go back to when life was grand… even when it wasn’t… but grand, because he was in it. But this reality of life tells me that I know that chapter is forever closed…only to be opened again to briefly glimpse at the shadows of memories. That is all… there is no more.
For 15 months, I had been climbing this mountain of grief. I had a vision of myself standing seemingly alone at the top trying to gather the courage to cross this bridge that is in front of me directly at my feet. There is no one in sight… and there is a mist resting in the air.
As I look out in the expanse, there is a vast valley stretching forever below me. In the distance, I somehow know there is a mountain somewhere through the haze on the other side of this uncertain swinging contraption. Another mountain that is called, “Moving Forward.” It scares me to the deepest part of my heart and soul. Because I know “forward” means that he is not there. Forward means when I turn my head back… all my eyes will behold is mist. A shadow of what was. Forward means unreserved laughter. Forward means probable unhindered dancing on the waves. Forward means “straining toward what is ahead.” Forward means pressing toward the goal. Forward also feels like forgetting. I don’t ever want to forget. (Philippians 3:13-14 NASB)
So here I stand, fifteen months later not knowing how to take a step onto that bridge… or even if I want to. One little step seems like an impossible task. And somehow through my dream, I know God is telling me something. He is asking for the impossible ask.
The step.
And for the life of me, my feet are stuck to the ground. I turn around and see how far I have already come up this mountainous grief. Even from here, it all grows faint… but at least I can still see. I see it well enough that I just want to lift my feet and run back the way I came from in hopes that I will rest in his arms once again. If I run back far enough, I will surely find Ed! And life can be grand again. But it is a mirage… I am being deceived. And my heart zooms right back to where I stand. Tears fall. I collapse to the ground. Paralyzed. Not knowing how to move… either way… the heartache remains.
Fifteen months. Fifteen longer than long months to get to the summit on the mountain. How long will I linger here? I see there is a tree to shade me… I might be here for a while. But then again… the Lord gives and He takes away as quick as the sun rises. (Jonah 4 NASB) Resting seems good for a night or two… or maybe several more. Off to my right side, in my peripheral, I see a pile of supplies left for me while I decide what to do and when to do it. I can pitch a tent, build a fire and sit right here. After all, the sun will be setting soon and I truly still do not know how I will move forward from this place… this grief… this heart wrenching loss.
The battle of go and stay is relentless.
Fear is relentless.
Inside, sometimes I feel like a 2 year old wanting to scream and cry and stomp off because I didn’t get my way. And sometimes I feel like a woman of wisdom craving to set all things right and conquer all the dragons and do the impossible ask. To cross the bridge. To move forward.
But always, always what I want is to be in the arms of my Jesus, because in those arms, there is no more tantrum. Fear, grief and pain are covered by His peace. He IS the key to the impossible ask. But here I am for now… on this summit… seemingly until my supplies have diminished and the tree has vanished and I have found my courage to walk and Truth to move my feet.
Oh how I long for both.
Here is hard.
The Best is Yet to Come by Mack Brock
Days pass on this mountain.
I continually and increasingly feel His presence.
From my resting, I look to my left.
There He is.
Waiting for me.
Still.
He gently draws me to Him. We walk to the edge once again near the never-ending bridge. It seems some of the mist has lifted… but only slightly. To be precise, at this point in the story, I am 20 months out from holding the hand of my earthly love. My strength is still zapped at times and my head feels jumbled. I stood there wondering what was holding me back? The fear of forgetting? The fear of change? The fear of the future? All the above and more? Jesus remained next to me with His right hand lovingly placed on the small of my back… His left hand was stretched out, reaching towards the “forward” … showing me as far as He can allow me to see. Which isn’t too far. He asks me once again to take the step onto the “uncertain to me” bridge. He whispers in my ear, “Write… just write, and I will take care of the rest.”
This vision has captivated my mind for some time now. I held fast at the threshold of that bridge for a while with Jesus. But then I did it. I lifted my foot and took that first treacherous step and you know what I found? Solid ground. (Psalm 26:12) I still can’t see that far ahead, but I can see enough to take the next step into His direction. I also have not forgotten and realize that I can move forward with Ed because He is a part of who I am.
To walk the walk that my hubby had to walk took a lot of courage. Was he afraid? Yes. Did he let it stop him? No. He had so much difficulty in his walk, but he also dreamed his silly dreams about cake and football games along the way. So I will continue to dream. And follow Jesus. And walk, the walk on that bridge that is so high up above the valley. It is still scary to me. But I will take each step as He prompts me into His divine appointments. I still cannot see past the haze to view the mountain called “Moving Forward”... but with each step, I will be moving forward… and perhaps I will bake a cake along the way.
TRAILBLAZING:
Bake a cake today! Maybe even share it with a friend as you share my hubby's funny dream!
And take a listen to Nora McInerny’s thoughts on moving forward with grief. There may be a couple things that you might not agree with but she has LOTS of good to say! “We don't "move on" from grief. We move forward with it.”
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