... but this one was a nightmare. I don't know why I had this or where it came from. The whole dream was Brad being a combative jerk to me. In the course of trying to get him to stop and listen to me I used about a thousand different, non-damaging submission moves on him. I'd try to explain to him that, if he would just stop, the pain would stop. Then he would be pulling some more crap and I'd have him in some other hold causing him pain. Not enjoyable. At one point I had my elbow digging into his eye socket while I explained that, no matter how much it hurt, I was holding back and would he please stop so I could stop. Nice thoughts. Sorry, Brad... I really would walk away before subjecting you to all of that. Then again, I hate the result of not having tried harder in real life.
Happy Birthday Little Brother.
Comments
patrick
and another one...
Thu, 02/26/2009 - 6:41amI don't have the time or energy to be as descriptive this time, but I do remember the typical, odd, dream-reality details. Lots of other, weird but familiar details and happenings besides what I describe. Basically Brad was going to go to the dentist. One day, while waiting for him and Kate to show up for a holiday feast, my grandparents told me that Brad's employer had fired him before he could use his dental insurance. I thought that was pretty crappy as it was their reason for firing him. I asked if they were coming to eat or if they were coming to pick me up. I was trying to figure out how I was going to tell Brad that I was taking him to the dentist and I would pay. Everyone knew that he was trying to clean up, and I thought that a toothache was too much to handle at any time, much less when you are trying to get through other things. Brad and Kate showed up, but I never got to tell Brad. It seemed like something bad had happened. The next thing in the dream, since dreams jump around, was me getting ready for bed. I had been waiting for someone to come in the room. When she did, it was a presence and not a specific person. I had taken this pressurized canister and squirted some of the blue paste into my hand. I had started to work it into my hands when she appeared in the door. I held up my hands to show her. She asked, "what are you wearing to bed? what is your favorite thing in the world to wear to bed?" I answered, "All I know..." and I broke down crying as I tried to say the rest and she grabbed my head and held it to her chest... "is that, right now, I love you to death."
I really did break down yesterday morning. Long, hard, gulley-washing breakdown. Sitting in a towel on the toilet after my shower, crying so hard I didn't recognize the sounds coming out of my mouth. Crying so hard that my nose burned from bile like I had just had a drunken hangover puke session that went through my nose. Snot and drool spit into the sink on a regular basis. The longest and hardest I have ever cried without my body shutting it down. I always thought I would be weak and nothing if I ever let myself cry with wild abandon like that. I don't mean weak as in a wimp, I mean that my spine would turn to jelly and I would be empty inside forever after. If I let it out I would no longer feel anything about anything ever again. Like some people get on anti-depressants - zombies just barely awake and only able to barely function. That is not how I felt. I had incredible tension and pressure the whole day after, more than usual. Melissa called in the evening and set it off again, but my body stopped it that time.
For the record, in real life, my mom was pissed when Brad blew off a dental appointment that she set up for him and was going to pay for. I don't want to take credit for that, even if it was in a dream. He really did have teeth bothering him, not my mom trying to get him to go on prinicple. She told me that he felt he wasn't worth having his teeth fixed, that the money would be wasted on him. I was really worried because it is a viscious circle... a toothache is crippling to someone in a healthy frame of mind, and Brad was not going to get out of any funk he was in with that added on top of it.
Kris (not verified)
dreaming
Sat, 03/07/2009 - 8:50amI wish I could get dreams back, it seems like if I could dream about Brad, then at least I could spend some time with him.
patrick
an "I remember" dream...
Wed, 03/18/2009 - 7:17amDue to things in real life, two days ago I was reminded of playing "Pit Stop" on the Commodore64. Last night I dreamed of walking along a path. There was a scattering of other people walking, all in the same direction like we were headed somewhere. Surreal. I was happily remembering playing Pit Stop, and I turned to a young,12-year old Brad to ask if he remembered. He was walking on a path parallel to mine. I called happily over, "Hey, do you remember..." and that was as far as I got. As quick as that, the old punch in the gut. I turned back and broke down crying because I knew I was talking to a memory. I heard him say, "I remember." Knowingly. Even though I was facing the direction I was walking, I saw him say this. It was like he was older than his years, but still innocent. Even though I wasn't watching, I saw him continue down his path, which was no longer parallel to mine. I saw that there were trees and bushes between us now, obscuring his path. I would catch little glimpes of him now and then. I was crying in such a way as to double me over in real life, but it was a dream and I kept walking. A guy from work appeared and asked what was wrong. I told him I had been thinking about my brother.
I don't know why but, looking back, we were all walking our paths like we had to keep moving in our own directions, on our own paths. There was no thought to changing course. There was no questioning why. We just kept walking. I don't know where we were all going.
patrick
The "I Remember Dream"...
Mon, 04/20/2009 - 12:00amI travelled to another supermoto practice day today. Just me and what I would consider a very warm friend... a guy that has a heart and isn't afraid to expose it. Very smart with people because he cares. Anyway, his mom died last week. So, we can talk, and we talked about these things. I brought up the slew of dreams that I have written about on this site, and the "I Remember" dream is the one that seems to have amazing amounts of meaning. This particular dream has Brad and I walking on paths that are moving us away from each other. Just like the one-year mark, there is more distance and time between us each day.
After explaining it to him, I had mentioned that everybody is kind of freaked about this one-year aniversary coming up, but that it isn't the day that I am focusing on. I mentioned that some feel like they are leaving Brad behind, and he replied that it is because the memories are fading. I know that losing the only thing we have of Brad, the memories, and losing the pain which keeps him real for us is a big factor for some. I am not afraid of that, simply because it doesn't seem to be going away.
In talking to my friend on our trip today, I was able to voice, and therefore realize, what "leaving him behind" means for me... I am getting further away from the point where I could have stopped, turned around, and helped Brad. I know it will always and forever be too late, but I still feel like I am leaving a wounded soldier behind. We may feel like we are betraying Brad with allowing the memories to fade, but we aren't "allowing" them to fade, it is not something we can change. We may feel that we are betraying Brad by losing the pain that keeps that four-letter combination of B, R, A, and D from being just four letters or just a word instead of something and someone we feel emotion for, but it is natural for the body to numb itself to pain, and it is not something we can change. I feel like I am a coward or selfish bastard for not turning back and pulling Brad out of the fire, but it is too late and not something I can change. Our hearts know we can't stop or change these things, but the frustration and guilt and sorrow and depression and panic still float on the surface. We THINK we can unless we really contemplate it, but who can really contemplate anything for long when all that frustration and guilt and sorrow and depression and panic are sucking the life out of us.
I said that the day doesn't hold any doom for me. I certainly have been hurting and preoccupied lately, though. It does not feel like anything other than normal anxieties, but I just can't ride... I had a tough time getting on the bike for the motocross classes I took earlier in the year, and I could not ride the full day at any of the classes. I was not having fun on the bike, I was anxious, and it seemed like a chore. Going to the Nevada race... anxiety and not having fun on the track, except a corner here and there. Vancouver last weekend... not too bad, and I thought my head might be coming back. Today... just like all the other days, I could focus and have fun at one or two corners, but I just can't put the whole track together and focus or really enjoy it. I can't do one full lap, much less a whole race. Putting together the throttle and the front brake and the rear brake and the body position and this corner leading into that corner... I'm just not interested.
I know that this is probably just a phase, but I really wonder if I should hang it up. The only thing I can think of to replace racing and riding with is sitting on a beach watching the waves, crying when I want to, curling up on warm sand when I need to, sleeping in place when I am worn out... just being left alone and not having any responsibilities or distractions to interrupt my thoughts. I am worn out thinking of Brad at work, or on my way to work. I am worn out thinking of Brad when I am going to meet friends, or while I am with friends and have to perform the social dance. Little snippets that aren't allowed to fully mature in my mind because we have to go, go, go in this world.
Damn, I am making this all about me. I just want to get my weird angle on the dreaded one-year mark down. I'm getting crushed by it, but in a different way.
Kris (not verified)
I was so relieved to see, in
Mon, 04/20/2009 - 5:34amI was so relieved to see, in words from somebody other than me, about not wanting to lose the pain. I have been afraid to admit to many, that I don't want to get better. I want to go back to the day I found him, and live through it again. I guess like it's a drug. Give me the full blow of raw pain, as harmful and painful as it was. Give it back. I want my grief. If that goes away what do I have left. Don't answer, I know the answers. This is just how I feel.
Pat, the panic I have been feeling, the fear of these days, has been haunting me for months. Do you know how many times I tried to calm myself by saying "Pat would say it's just a day on a calender". It really is. But it is the day. A marker to show how far we have gotten. It is proof that life goes on, even though I have thought time should stop when something this terrible happens. If the pain gets to numb, or the grief fades away, or if everything "gets better" then I/we just become regular people who lost somebody. It is like the importance goes away. I feel this has completly changed me, and who I am and how I think and I even think I look different. To me, this was more tragic than normal, more painful than normal, it can never be normal or somehow the importance of Brad, it just is not so important. Like when I say my brother died, those words seem so minor compared to adding in just a bit of the circumstances. Then it seems as though maybe others understand a little bit better. I don't know, it all seems dumb when I put it into words. But this is not just like regular. This is my brother. I guess I feel the need to defend the importance of our loss. I don't know.
Ok, so I was going to make a point, and as usual got sidetracked. You might say you are crushed by it, but in a different way, but when I read your words, it feels the same, but just put into words in a different way. And I hope you would not throw in the towel on racing. Your body and age will force you to do that, probably a lot sooner than you think it should. Keep what you can, that you enjoy, for as long as you can.
patrick
Don't know if any of you saw it...
Tue, 04/21/2009 - 10:21pmDamn, a big part of my understanding shown to come from movies yet again... Kris, you talk about that big shot of raw pain. Dennis Leary did an HBO or Showtime series in which he was a fireman. At the end of the second season, his kid got killed by a drunk driver. Leary's character showed no emotion, seemed to feel no emotion. He didn't say anything or respond to anyone, he was just emotionally frozen from shock... for days. His cousin's widow calls him up to say her butch girlfriend is beating the shit out of her again, and he goes over to deal with it. He is a tough bastard throughout the whole series so far, plays hocky for the fire dept., doesn't seem afraid to scrap. He goes to the house and faces off with the girlfriend, and says nothing. Doesn't challenge, just stands there still dead inside. She doesn't know what to make of him, so she decks him. He asks her to hit him again. She does. He looks like he is starting to understand something. He asks her to hit him again. She does. This time he busts out crying and falls to his knees sobbing uncontrollably. Just like slapping someone to get them to calm down and snap out of a panic, the pain wakes him up and makes him feel again. He isn't sobbing about getting punched, the pain of losing his son is finally welling up.
BRILLIANT writing. Goes up at the top of the list for the most human things I have ever seen on television.
I get plugged up as if a Chinese fire drill of grief is piled up against the door out of my body... too much to come out at once, so none comes out. The door out swings in, and all the emotions are piled against it so it can't be opened. A really good jolt from the outside bounces those emotions back enough to get the door to swing open... and to give the emotions a running start back at the door. They flood out en masse.