It was just a dream. That’s what people will tell you, but we all know it’s much more. It’s your subconscious sorting through your junk — past, present, future and letting you know it’s going to be ok.
Last night I dreamed I was back in the OR. My last day. Only I wasn’t really supposed to be there, something had gone wrong and I was there until my transfer could get sorted out. I was in an Ortho room (I like ortho least of all things surgical), doing a bronchoscopy case (incredibly short and no time to get your wits about you), with surgeons I didn’t know, with equipment which refused to work, (including the actual lights in the room, the computer, and the equipment the MDs were attempting to use). My charge nurse and another nurse were trying to help me but only added to the chaos. Someone in the room before me had not picked up and there were supply wrappers left all over and I didn’t know what applied to my case and what applied to the previous case, so I didn’t know what to charge my patient for. The repair guy for the lights showed up but wasn’t dressed out to come into an OR room. And I didn’t call the recovery room to warn them the patient was on the way.
Nearly everything that could make your case suck short of something bad happening to the patient was in that damn dream.
But then the nightmare shifted. I was outside walking to my car and a man with an interesting accent (Scottish/Irish/Welch?? — who knows? I have male friends whose families came from all those places and they give good advice) suggests I go to my car via this certain path. It leads to a brick walkway where fountains rained down on the people passing along it. As I stepped onto the brick — I felt washed clean of the chaos and stress of the day. By the time I came to the steps at the end of the path, I was literally dancing in the rain. Restored to Who I Really Am.
And there waiting for me, was my younger daughter, and her youngest daughter. Smiling. My mini me — and her mini her. We are the youngest children in our respective families.
For each of us, we have longed to be heard and seen by parents lost in the chaos of responsibilities, dysfunction, grief, exhaustion, or illness. We have become overachievers. People who grew up in the shadow of older siblings. Sometimes invisible, sometimes warriors.
But my daughter had broken that cycle. For herself and her child. And there she was, waiting for me with a hug, a smile, and unconditional love — when I finally was able to break my own cycle. When I would walk out of my own chaos — cleanse my own spirit — dance in my own rain. And finally, hear my own heart speak to me of what I needed.
Our subconscious is a miraculous thing. It knows so much about our lives, but it observes everything, putting pieces of puzzles together we aren’t even aware existed. This morning I woke up reminded of the stress I was leaving behind, not just the people I cared about. And was reassured by the love on the face of my child and grandchild — after I danced in the rain and cleansed my soul — I am on the right path.