Haunted by Dreams

I dreamt of Beau last night.

I dreamt that I was carrying him around a new house; it was my house and it was some sort of open house, though I don’t own a house; my mum was there trying to sell the place for me, though my mum doesn’t do that kind of work - ah yes - a description that possesses all the clarity of a remembered dream.

What I remember most is how it felt to hold Beau. He was small enough to tuck under an arm, his four white paws in my right hand, my arm pressing his side against mine, his head resting somewhere close to my chest. I think he loved to be carried; he loved to be closer to licking level with people’s faces. He was always a licker. He was an awesome dog.

I hate dreaming about Beau, well, more honestly, I hate waking up from having dreamt about Beau. Often times my dreams of him are so vivid, so real, I can feel his fur against my face, feel the touch of his cold nose, remember how much I love him and how much comfort he brought to me during is furry life.

And then I wake up.

And I am alone.

And I miss him even more.

The worst dream I ever had of him (or maybe it was the best), was one I had soon after his passing; I dreamt that he was sleeping next to me in bed, his furry little body pressed up against my left leg, I could hear his breathing and feel his warmth. Waking up, for a moment I thought he was still there; and then I remembered, and his absence was all the more palpable.

For the longest time after his death I couldn’t sleep in my bed, I kept thinking I heard him, his snuffling snoring sigh as he settled down to sleep under my bed, where he often slept, close to my head, close to my heart.

Or maybe, in retrospect, it was the absence of the sound that made it so hard to sleep – in the still of the night, after the chaos of the day has calmed, all we are left with, are all the things that haunt us.

He haunts me still, now over six months since his passing.

I took comfort from his presence; now, I must learn to find comfort in his absence.

Ripples

About a week ago, I heard a story by Stuart McLean (writer & host of The Vinyl Café on CBC radio and someone who I aspire to write like) which has got me thinking a lot about cause and effect. His story, which I won’t attempt to re-tell here because there would be no way I could do it justice, ended with Stewart musing on how our lives interact like balls on a pool table, colliding and redirecting each other and not always with conscious intent.

For me, it's like someone throwing pebbles in a pond, the ripples radiate out, affecting other ripples on the pond, combining, amplifying, nullifying and altering each other without realizing the effect prior to the ripples colliding.

People interact in much the same way, their actions or words are like pebbles creating ripples, radiating outward affecting others, both intentionally and unintentionally. The nature of the action or words used determines the size of the pebble and the velocity of the drop and, in a related fashion, the size of the ripples created.

Consciously or unconsciously, we have an impact on others, altering their thoughts or feelings or actions; like the ripple from the pebble alters the path of a wayward leaf floating on the surface of the pond or altering the shoreline on another part of the pond when our ripples move and alter the flotsam and jetsam on the shore.

Sometimes, the pebbles are larger than expected and the resultant ripples are large, causing problems for the wayward leaf or far shoreline.

I created one such ripple; almost a month ago now. I didn’t realize how big it was or how much damage it would cause to a good friend’s shoreline. I was trying to strike a blow for self esteem and self worth and as the wave rippled outward, it was distorted and became; me just striking a blow.

The funny thing about ripples is that they radiate out in all directions, hitting far shorelines but also hitting your own; they bounce off of other objects and rebound off of other shorelines and are distorted and magnified and they cause greater damage than they ever intended. In the end, my shoreline has not remained unaffected.

I keep dropping more pebbles in, trying to nullify the effects of the first one I dropped but I don’t have a PhD in wave mechanics or advanced mathematics or whatever it takes to calculate what force needs to be applied and where, in order to nullify the ripple. Maybe that’s where my analogy falls apart, or maybe that’s where it is reinforced.

We all create ripples as we move though life, some big, some small, some good, some not so good, but once that initial pebble is dropped, and the ripple begun, there is little we can do to stop it from radiating outward; once the words are spoken or the action done, we must then live with the consequences, expected or unexpected. "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction" – no PhD required. I guess the trick is keeping Newton's Third Law in mind as we move though life.

But eventually all ripples dissipate; with time and space eventually the ripple diminishes and all that is left is to clean up the shorelines. And hopefully, when the clean up is complete, the shorelines will be better for the effort.

New Year's Road

Christmas is merely a memory, growing ever smaller in the rear-view mirror of life, with New Year’s Eve fast on it’s heels. The new year stretches out in front of me, full of mystery, hope and potential.

I wonder what lies on the road ahead.

Will it be a road full of long strait monotonous patches where the miles (or in this case days) all blur into one. Where the repetition and predictability of events makes you feel you are on some sort of auto-pilot, just coasting along, without needed to do much steering, without there being much to look and or much to keep you from being bored to tears?

Or will it be a rough and rocky road, full of potholes and slippery patches, where, if you aren’t careful, you might even slide off the road and end up in a ditch somewhere, far removed from civilization or salvation. Will the road be so rough and so fraught with peril that the way forward will seem almost impassable, too dangerous or painful to traverse?

Will the weather on our road trip called 2009 bring clear sunny skies that bathe everything in beauty, or oppressive heat that virtually immobilizes all creatures; or dark stormy skies that dampen spirits; or will Mother Nature provide breezy days that escort us on our journeys.

I hope the road ahead be like driving through the Rocky Mountains; the road twisting and dipping and curving, just enough to keep it interesting but not enough to endanger. Where the long winding and almost treacherous bits give way to scenes of great beauty and peace; having the narrow road open up revealing a topaz blue glacial lake, placid and pure or a grand mountain peak lightly dusted with snow. Where all the climbing and challenges are rewarded with easy patches of downhill driving and safe areas to take a break and stretch your legs and take in some of the beauty and wonder that is to be 2009.

Here’s hoping that the road through 2009 is punctuated with beauty, challenges, easy patches and interesting experiences with a goodly number of rest breaks and view points scattered along the way!