by Otis Taylor (USA)
Edited by Robert Fenhagen
When I was a child, the most vivid dream that I remember was one in which I was standing atop a circus trapeze pole—very tall, very slender, and very scary. However, I was not scared, in fact, the recurring theme of the dream was that I dove off of the platform, flew down toward the ground very fast (breakneck speed), and saved a woman, who was in some kind of trouble.
As life has progressed, I became more questioning of the causes of things—dreams, for instance.
I had assumed that this early dream had to do with my inability to save my mother from the effects of alcohol and other ailments.
As more time elapsed, I now believe that it has to do with my inability to help almost anyone, especially myself.
At times, I had mused that my need to save was actually a reflection of my need to control—almost suggesting my hanging like one of Dracula’s bats, waiting for some needy soul to soar by in free fall, some begging to be saved; some happily heading into the abyss, ignoring my need to save them.; I mean, really! Who am I kidding?!??
The fact that I stood by, as my ex-wife, who was diagnosed as being manic-depressive, sailed by, and out of my life ( after my attempts to cure her,) while drinking incredible amounts of alcohol, might have made me ask the question: ‘Who was sick, and who was insane?’
I’ve heard other men speak harsh words, as they try to put themselves in their wives’ shoes:
“Are you kidding; I’d rather be dead than to take your disgusting hand.” They mimic.
I think they may be right.
Later, I tried to save another woman who eventually died as a direct result of alcoholism, and the woman who I am in love with now, who has various physical ailments, and who I would love to ‘save’ from her trials, but cannot.
As time went on, I realized that this theme of saving someone else was not in my best interest, because it allowed me to focus elsewhere, instead of dealing with my own demons, many of which turned out to do with my relationships with women, and alcohol.
Saving someone from their destiny is changing that destiny, and changing destiny is impossible, right?
I now realize that my dream of saving a woman is ludicrous.
I am limited by my ridiculous belief that I can change another person’s life, and this has been proven impossible do in a positive way, yet, I continue to dream.
Powerlessness is not an easy pill to swallow, but it is a harsh medicine that I need to take.
I continue accepting my weaknesses, but I do not look forward to it, and as I continue living, I need to remember that I cannot be controlled by a dream, because the dream is not real, but I wait like a thirsty vampire bat, waiting for others to share their dreams.
Suddenly, I fly to them, and sink my fangs.
My Mother is long dead, but other people’s dreams will be around for a long, long time.
I hunger for your dream; I hunger for your crisis.