Several
months ago, I began experiencing some very strange and vivid dreams on a
regular basis. They were strange because
I wasn't in any of them, and vivid in that I could remember almost all of their
details upon waking. However, the
meaning of these dreams eluded me completely for quite a while.
In
the first of my dreams, there was a fairly large crowd of people on a stopped
subway train doing nothing but reading and lolling about when, suddenly, a
woman who was rushing to catch the train at the station, tripped and fell on
the platform. However, nobody offered to
help her; they all seemed much too preoccupied with themselves to notice that
she was in real pain. Apparently, her
ankle was sprained and she was unable to move.
The only thing she was capable of doing was calling out repeatedly for
help until subway personnel could summon first aid for her.
My
second dream featured a man who was walking home late one night on a lonely,
dark street when he was accosted by several thugs in a car. The thugs forced him into the back seat, tied
him up, blindfolded him and drove him out to a deserted country road where they
violently assaulted him and robbed him of everything except his clothes. When they later dumped him into a ditch, he
crawled home in sheer agony, praying that someone would come to his rescue soon
and call the police. But, it was a long
time before he encountered anyone who was both willing and able to help
him. Finally, he encountered someone who
called the police and took him to the hospital for emergency treatment.
The
third dream I had was about a woman who attempted suicide by taking an overdose
of powerful amphetamines. She had
decided that life was now intolerable since she'd discovered her lover in the
arms of another woman. Instead of dying,
however, she woke up screaming to the sounds of a stomach pump removing the
contents of her poisoned stomach as she cursed God for making her suffer in
such intense emotional and physical pain.
Because
I was having these dreams regularly, I thought about what significance they
might have for me, but could find none.
From a logical standpoint, they made no sense. My dreams were all about people who were
helpless in their pain, or, even inflicting pain upon themselves. What this had to do with my life was beyond
me. Eventually, though, I resolved to
find out their true meaning.
Up to
that point, my life had been fairly uneventful and I could not conceive of
myself ever being in the same dreadful state as the people in my dreams. I liked my lifestyle; I was comfortable
financially, independent and not in need of anything from anyone else. This was my life for several years until, one
day, I received some news that would force me to re-evaluate the importance of
human companionship and emotional support.
I had
always been considered by others to be an active, healthy individual who was
more interested in a game of tennis or a session on my bike than a beer in the
bar. But, people liked me. I would regularly be invited out for social
lunches or evenings. My family was
always inviting me over for dinner.
However, I usually turned them down; I always had something
"better" to do with which I was occupied at the moment.
During
the time I was having these dreams, I started to notice over a period of
several months that I did not always have the energy for the lifestyle I was
used to. Sometimes, I would go to bed
early because I was truly exhausted and at other times because I just did not
feel well. I started to have what I
called weekly "stress" headaches and also to contract stubborn colds
and infections that would not respond easily to treatment. Since my job as an advertising account
executive was very demanding, I put my physical problems down to the demands on
my time and energy at work. There didn't
seem to be any other explanation. My
doctor would tell me to take my vitamins, watch my diet, exercise and get
plenty of rest. These were all things I
was doing anyway so I just kept on doing them.
After a while, everything seemed to stabilize and I was able to relax.
When
I went to the doctor's office for my regular physical check-up, she did the
usual things: checked my blood pressure,
heart and lungs and then prescribed some routine tests at the local
laboratory. I complied with her request
to take the tests because, after all, it was for a good cause - my health. I was certain the test results would reassure
me that everything was fine. But, about
a week later, the doctor called me and asked me to come by and see her, so I
did, right after work.
After
I arrived and was settled in her office, she told me that there was something
terribly wrong with my blood test; it was HIV-positive. She had double-checked the results and was
certain they were correct. She told me
that, unless I had had unprotected sex with multiple partners, then I had
probably contracted the virus via a blood transfusion long ago in an
operation. She then proceeded to explain
the horrible implications of being HIV-positive, such as the future development
of AIDS. Even though I attempted to
stay attentive to what she was saying, most of my brain was denying every word
she spoke.
I
couldn't believe what she was saying! I wanted to cry and scream. I wanted to throw myself off the nearest
bridge! I was sure there had to be some
mistake! How could this have happened to
me? I was the "picture of
health"! Wasn't I?
After
leaving the doctor's office, I went home in a complete daze. When the news sank in, I started to cry,
great shuddering sobs that shook my whole body and lasted for hours.
Hysterically, I felt desperate to talk to someone about my plight, but
whom could I tell? All of a sudden, I
felt more alone and helpless than I had ever felt before in my whole life. There was absolutely no one I could call upon
to trust with this news. I feared that
no one would help me in my hour of greatest need for human companionship and
support. Surely, my family and close
friends would rally 'round me and help me come to grips with this awful
situation - because, if they didn't, my pain would surely become unbearable, to
say the least.
When
I was finally able to tell my family and a few close friends about my diagnosis,
they were kind and even sympathetic at first, but, as time wore on, their
kindness turned to coolness, their sympathy to apathy - not so much my family,
but certainly others. I couldn't believe
that these people whose esteem I had deemed relatively unimportant to my
well-being, now jarred me with their coldness and insensitivity, but it was
true. Now, when I suddenly needed people
around me, they wanted nothing whatsoever to do with me.
When
I realized I needed emotional support as never before, I joined a support group
for people with HIV. These people stood
by me and were there for me like no others I had previously known and several
of them grew to be my best friends. I
could talk to them anytime and tell them anything without fear of recrimination
or rejection. After my diagnosis, it was
as if my previous life had not existed.
For the next year, as my health became progressively worse and I
eventually developed AIDS, I was extremely grateful for the presence of this
support group in my life. In some very
special ways, it was the best year of my life.
The
dreams I'd been having became further and further apart in occurrence after
that. Before my diagnosis, I hadn't
thought of myself as being just like others, needing friends for companionship. Sadly, now that I knew what the dreams had
really been about, I wished I'd never had to discover the awful truth.
published by Authorhouse, copyright 2011, Anne Shier. All rights reserved.
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