Dreams

On the night of Sunday, September 9, 2001, I had a terrible nightmare. In my dream, I was standing inside a tall, glass building. As I looked up, I saw an airplane headed straight for the building - I immediately experienced a feeling of impending doom. I knew that plane was crashing and I knew that I, and everyone in that building, would die. I awoke with a start and immediately panicked. My mom was booked to fly from Saskatoon to Edmonton on Friday, September 14 to visit me. The dream was so powerful that I felt compelled to "listen" to it. I strongly believed that my mom should not be getting on that plane.

I told my roommate and BFF Janna about my dream. I even wrote the whole thing in my journal. I couldn't get the events of that dream and the the feelings that I experienced out of my mind. On the phone with my mom, I attempted to communicate the fear I felt about her getting on that plane. After some discussion, we decided that it was just a scary dream and mom ensured me that Westjet never crashes into buildings so, although I was uneasy,  I just kinda tried to let it go.

On  the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I awoke to Janna's shocked voice as she burst into my bedroom, "Kirst, come look at the TV. It's your dream."

I'm not sure if it was an eery coincidence or if there's some odd reason that my dream coincided with and seemed to resemble the horrific events of 9-11, but from that day on, I decided to take my dreams very seriously. I don't think that I possess psychic abilities or anything like that. I'm not even sure what I was supposed to "do" with that 9-11 dream. But I've just always experienced very vivid dreams with interesting plots - when examined closely, it seems evident that my dreams are often reflections of how I am feeling at the time. I find it interesting to consider my dreams, interpret them, and determine if they can help me "see" myself and my situation more clearly.

For example, during the last year of my knee drama,  I've been having a recurring volleyball dream. I used to be a decent v'ball player - I played senior in high school (we were provincial champs in 1995 - whoot whoot!) and although I was never University quality, by any means, I was always a pretty dependable, smart player.

My volleyball dream always has the same theme. I suck. The ball is coming directly at me, I get into position to pass and then either my feet refuse to move and the ball hits the ground within millimeters of me or I swing my arms without ever contacting the ball. Sometimes, the ball turns into a piece of furniture or once, a dog. At that point I'm completely screwed. The other common denominator in my dream is my coach. It's always Dr. M. And he's always pissed at me. In one dream, he pulled me aside and within inches of my face stated angrily, "I hand-selected you for this team. You have been nothing but a disappointment." I typically feel shame and awaken feeling shitty and frustrated. In one dream, Dr. M  hollered plays at me in another language. I knew he was trying to help me; yet, I could not understand a word out of his mouth. I felt lost. It has always been blatantly obvious to me that this recurring volleyball dream was a reflection of how I was feeling at the time. In each and every dream I felt frustrated. I felt paralyzed. I felt like a failure. In reality, although I was working my ass off to help/heal my knee, I was seeing no positive results. The knee became something out of my control. Essentially, I was "stuck" - just like my damn feet on that volleyball court. I think it's fitting that Dr. M was always "cast" as my coach. I was looking to him for guidance.  I was hoping he would fix me. He was trying. I was trying. It wasn't working. With every exasperated look he gave me as I entered his examination room with a new complaint, I felt like I was letting him down. He was working hard to help me. In retrospect, he was probably feeling just as frustrated and powerless with my non-compliant knee as I was.

One night in April; however, the dream was different. I was at volleyball practice and Dr. M stood on a chair, holding the ball above the net. My task was to hit the ball out of his hand. Each and every time I hit the ball, he would yell, "Too low. Too low. Too low." Each and every time I hit under the ball, causing the ball to repeatedly fly out of bounds. Finally Dr. M pulled me aside and said, "You know what Einstein said - the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Hmmmm. The dream had changed. The dream was so vivid and certainly had my attention. It was apparent to me that I could no longer go on the way I was. Something had to change.

A week later, Dr. M met with me in his office to discuss this new and exciting cartilage transplant. He explained the risks of having a surgery that was really still in its infancy (mainly the fact that we don't have a lot of long-term results to examine). I listened, I educated myself and I agreed to the surgery and certainly considered the "Einstein" dream. Perhaps that dream was leading me in this direction? I don't know, but I listened. It was time to try something different.

I haven't had the frustrating volleyball dream for months. In fact, last night I had the most wonderful, positive dream ever! In this dream, I was attending some event - it seems to me it was "Canada Summer Games." I was walking around happily, and then would suddenly realize that I didn't have my crutches! Panic would ensue and I would search everywhere for my crutches. I always found a pair, but they never seemed to belong to me. One pair of crutches was much too tall. One pair was much too short. One pair was actually made out of bricks (heavy!) Finally I was approached by my mom, "Kirstie, you don't need crutches anymore. You can walk. You will never need them again."

I woke up feeling amazing. Hopeful. Confident.

I've made an executive decision to pay close attention to that particular dream. Have your dreams ever told you something?

Exciting news! I received clearance to begin to weight bear today. I'm weaning down to 1 crutch and the ugly brace wreaking of blood, sweat, tears, and tequila is gone! We don't know for certain if the surgery was a success, but Dr. M is adamant that I am "the perfect specimen" for this surgery (no one has ever called me a "perfect specimen" before but I kinda like it!) so time will tell. I look a little like Bambi at the moment and there's definitely some pain. Ouch. Bring on the rehab...here we go!

Dundee, the dog, says, "Ok, ok, we know you love pics of yourself. Let me out, damnit"
Check out the scrawny right leg!