A dream within a dream.(Kevin Hughes) “A dream is but a dream…”

I remember that lyric from an old song. To me, well, it meant a lot more than the original lyric. For I dream…constantly. I even went to see a Doctor, one of those fancy Psychiatrist types with more Degrees than I have names, She was also a Medical Doctor, a PH. D Neuroscientist, and (supposedly) one the greatest living experts on dreaming.

I had read an Article she wrote about: “ Dream Psychosis.” I thought maybe I had that. She laughed and said:

“I hate Google. You amateurs read a few articles, watch a YouTube Video and suddenly you are a better diagnostician then Freud or Jung…or me.”

I had to laugh, because, well, that is exactly the process I used to find my “illness” and I thought Freud and Jung were old time hacks.
She continued on after our shared laugh (and my embarrassment):

“Darby, there is no way your are suffering from Dream Psychosis.”

“How can you be so sure? “ (Says the man who read one article and watched two Youtube Videos.)

“Well, for one thing (smiling the Cheshire Cat at me) you know when you are awake. If you had “Dream Psychosis” you wouldn’t know the difference. You could be asleep, or awake, either way you would act out what is in your dream. Yet you don’t. You just have a recurring dream that something important is going to happen…and you don’t want to miss it.”

Well, that scratched that avenue. So I asked her again:

“Then why do I have a dream, every night, and then daydreams during the day, all saying the same thing, that I will find a dream.

“It is it a scary feeling, this impending dream that will come to you?”

“No. It is more like portent…omen…signal…I don’t know. I just feel like I have to be hyper alert so that I don’t miss what the dream is telling me.”

“What, exactly, is the dream telling you?”

That is when broke down and cried. I mean broke down crying…like uncontrollable sobbing. She told me later she almost shot me up with sodium pentathol both to calm me down and find out the truth. She held back. Her first rule was to be as unobtrusive as possible so she could see into an uncluttered mind, or mental illness, drugs fogged the view - that’s what she told me. So she merely used the oldest therapy known to man.

She held me until I stopped crying.

“It just tells me that I will have a dream. A dream that will change my life…forever. That’s all. It doesn’t say how…or when…or whatever. God Doctor, it has been five years! How long do I have to wait to have a dream?”

She starred at me for a long time. Then she gave her Professional answer. Not one I expected to hear from a Lady of Science.

She spoke carefully and slowly, like one might reveal a pronouncement of great meaning:

“I think, Darby, that there are things that Science cannot explain. Ours is a mysterious and wonder filled Universe. And the mind is a universe in and of itself. It is powerful. As Milton once said:

“The mind is its own place, and in its self, it can make a Heaven of Hell, or a Hell of Heaven.”

I believe that somehow, someway, you are being prepared for some revelation. I don’t what kind. I don’t know the mechanism that makes it work. It is beyond the ken of any known Science. I do know you are not mentally ill (that was a relief to hear!), you have a stable personality and no mood disorders. It is what it is.

I have been at this a long time, and your case is unique. Please call me if you have the dream. Whenever it comes, night or day, call me.”

And that…was that. I was sent home to dream…again.

Another year or so passed.

Then…I dreamed.

*****

I woke up in a cold sweat I called the good Lady Doctor…I wanted to share it while it was still fresh in my mind. I knew if I went back to sleep…I would remember the feeling…but not the dream. I woke her with my call. She instantly was awake. I told her my dream. She never interrupted, or interjected. When I got done with my telling of the dream, she told me to pack a suitcase and meet me at the airport.

“Why? Where are we going?”

She laughed that laugh that people laugh when they are excited and don’t know the outcome.

“To France. Your dream said France. So France it is. I am going with you.”

I packed. We met. We got on an airplane.

We landed.

In France.

*****

The Dream said to go to the Louvre. It said to take my time. To visit it every day, but make sure to stop and see the Venus De Milo statue on your way out. Every day. So every day for three days…the good Lady Doctor and I went to the Louvre. We got to see a lot of Art. So much so, that I started to comment on things like: light, composition, expression, and depth.

It made the good Lady Doctor tease me a bit.

“Are you watching more Youtube Videos, or Documentaries? Did you Google every famous painting or sculpture?”

I had to laugh. More and more we made each other laugh. More and more I realized just how smart, clever, and caring she was. And funnily enough, I found myself enjoying both the Art and her company. Even more than the Art I loved the History I was getting, both about the Artists, and her. The Fourth day we ate lunch at the Louvre. It was delicious. I didn’t want it to end. Neither did she.

We chatted a bit. Since we had been hanging out every minute of every day, except back at the Hotel where she went to her room, and I went to mine, we agreed that after lunch we would go our separate ways and then meet at the Venus de Milo at closing time. She thought maybe by being so close to me, she was interfering with the conclusion of my dream. I reluctantly agreed. I kinda liked having her at my side all day, and when we went out to shows, or to walk by the River at night.

The call Paris: “The City of Lights and Romance.” And they are right on both counts.

The Afternoon dragged on. I could barely keep my mind on the paintings, sculptures and pottery. When they made the “Ten Minutes to closing time” announcement I almost sprinted to the Venus De Milo…I wanted to see if the Lady Doctor had discovered anything. To be honest, I just wanted to see her again.

She saw me coming down the stairs. My face must have reflected the same warm welcoming smile that was on her face because both our grins grew wider.

She almost lifted me off the ground with her hug. I was stunned. I could feel the Life Force of both of us pouring from soul to soul. It was refreshing in a way that only love can provide. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

“I know what your dream within a dream is!”

She spun me around in a tiny circle. How someone that dainty could lift a hundred and eighty one pound six foot even guy off of the ground is beyond me. But she did it.

Her enthusiasm was contagious. I giggled as she set me back down.

“Well, don’t hold me in suspense…tell me!”

“It’s us!”

I knew as soon as she said it, it was true.

It was us. My dream within a dream was right by my side the whole time I was looking for meaning. I found it…in her. She found it…in me.

I barely finished High School. She graduated college at thirteen! How in the world could we make it work. I was so afraid of losing her. Her friends could name a thousand wines, mine could tell you two kinds of beers.

She laughed again- and kissed me.

That kiss convinced me. We will make this work. But she told me what the dream really meant. I told you she was smarter than me.

“Don’t you see Darby? You had to meet me. We had to go to France. We spent nearly a week discovering that you might have a career as an Art Historian (which is what I ended up being a bit later). Your dream is our dream. Without those days together we would not have discovered each other, how kind you are, how you make me laugh, and how quick your mind is. (My mind is quick? Hers must be liquid mercury!)

We found each other, your career, and the country we are immigrating too. We are your dream within a dream. And you are my dream…one I didn’t even know I had. “

I know it sounds corny. She is a World Class Scientists and an expert on the mind…and she never tried to figure it out. When I occasionally asked her what she thought about it all she would simply raise up on one elbow in bed, lean over and kiss me on the forehead.

“Dreamboat, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

I didn’t.

Neither of us really dream anymore…we live it.

• Share this story on
• 0