Some dreams are rather obscure; you wake up confused and baffled, shaking your head to rattle the dream loose from your mind. Other dreams are like faint stars in the evening sky; you think you catch a glimpse of them as you wake but when you try to examine them closely they disappear. Then there are the dreams that remain clear and stay with you for the rest of the day or perhaps the rest of your life. Dreams take you to another dimension where anything is possible.
Some people like lucid dreaming. They train themselves to recognise that they’re dreaming and then direct the dream. Most of us try too hard to control everything in our waking hours, the thought of controlling everything in my dreams as well is just too exhausting. And why would I want to control the outcome of something that can be deeper, more profound and ultimately more interesting and fun than anything I could come up with.
Recently I woke with a dream still clinging to my mind and there’s no way I want to shake this one out of my head. It’s a dream I’ll take with me to the grave, literally. In this dream I was sitting in a café with some friends. I was dying, although I felt perfectly well. I’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness and my friends and I were discussing the fact.
“You know you get to sing a song just before you die,” one of my friends said.
“Really?” It was the first I’d ever heard of it.
“Yes,” she said. “The Angel of Death comes around and gets you to pick out a song.”
And wouldn’t you know it, right at that moment the Angel of Death dropped in to
the café for a visit. She wasn’t wearing black or carrying a scythe, she had long wavy Pre-Raphaelite hair with flowing robes to match and was carrying several songbooks.
“Can I choose any song I like?” I asked.
“Yes, of course.”
So out of all the songs in the universe what did I choose? Take It Easy by the Eagles. During the dream I became quite nervous. I didn’t even know all the words to Take It Easy. Then I was told that I had to sing it a capella in the beer garden of the local pub. At the last moment I changed my mind and sang a song I remembered from my childhood. I used to love delving into my dad’s LPs and Nat King Cole was a particular favourite. So the song I chose to sing before I died, while the patrons of the pub danced slowly around me, was Nature Boy.
“The greatest thing, you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.”
The next day I told The Hubby about the dream. I sang Nature Boy to him and asked him to play it at my funeral, whenever that may be. But until that day we’ll probably do what we did that afternoon; drive down the road with the Eagles blaring and both of us singing along with glee and gusto, “Take it easy, take it easy, don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.”