If Dreams Were to Come True

As I have mentioned, I'm occasionally psychic. Or just lucky. I don't know, but either way there have been a number of occasions when my nightly visions have come true with shocking accuracy. Sometimes this entertains me, and other times, it scares the living daylights out of me. Which is why, generally speaking, I'm not a very restful sleeper. I'm a heavy sleeper, and am according to my mom just the kind of lazy person who needs at least six hours of shut-eye, but many times I wake up shaken and exhausted because of my dreams.

Yesterday was one such morning. Except I wasn't shaken, so much as I was crying.

A high school class/grade mate of mine, always a sweet and smart young woman, was diagnosed with colon cancer. She died less than a month later, at age 34. Although we were in different classes (she was in the math track, I was in science), we knew of each. I was aware of her through the usual Iranian network of friends. And while I hadn't spoken to her since high school, I was so saddened by her passing.

Which may explain my dream.

In my dream, I went to my doctor, apologizing for coming to him with the same symptoms I always have and swearing they were real and I wasn't being a hypochondriac. He gave me the same smile he gave me every time I visit with my laundry list of GI-related issues. But his smile faded away as he looked at gibberish looking test results and apologized for having missed what was clearly cancer. In my dream I didn't panic then, or even when he told me I probably had less than a month to live. I panicked when I came home, trying to call people and say my good-byes and NO ONE would answer their damned phones. No one. In my dream, I sat crying hysterically, clutching the phone in my hand thinking I don't want to say good-bye to the people I love and care about in a voicemail message. Because that's rude, and frankly it would deprive them of the opportunity to say they love me and will miss me (or say good riddance and how I never lived up to their expectations).

Anyway, I woke up, clutching my cell phone and crying. M tried to pacify me and eventually trying to use logic (silly man, dreams don't follow logic). Nothing worked. Almost all day yesterday, I was moving under the sad haze of dying young and alone, deprived of the opportunity to tell people how much I cared for them and appreciated everything they have brought to my life.

I hope my classmate had that opportunity, I'm pretty sure she did. I hope she passed in peace, if too soon, knowing how much she was loved and respected. And selfishly, I hope my dream doesn't come true.