TheBanyanTree: A Stew Dream

[Monique Colver]

Stew was in a dream again this morning. It happens every so often,
especially when I’m dreaming vivid action dreams, which are similar to
action movies except there aren’t any explosions. Car chases, perhaps, but
no explosions.


In a part of my dream which wasn’t connected to the plot of the dream (my
dreams always have plots, storylines, and a cast of characters), I was in
New York, a place I’ve never been to, other than to switch airports, which
doesn’t really give one much time to look around. I was in a place that
could have been an airport, or a mall, or a large facility with people
traveling to and fro and a wide range of vendors. Call it what you will. My
dream locations don’t usually come with labels, or if they do the fine print
is too small for me to make out.


I stopped for a minute to look at something on a lower level, just a break
for a few minutes from either tracking someone or being tracked, because my
dreams are exhausting. And on the slightly lower level I could see a row of
one-person video game booths, and on the end one something was going on,
some kind of championship. I could see the back of the person currently
playing, and it looked just like Stew.


It looked like Stew back before he started wearing shorts all the time, for
this Stew had on black pants, and it was Stew without the illness that made
his life hell, for he was fine in a sea of people. The mental illness, that
is, not the cancer, which was its own hell. He turned his head slightly, and
it was him, definitely, and he kept playing. He won then, and he won big,
and he turned and walked out of the booth and raised both hands in fist
pumps. He was happy and he was calm and he was In Control. He turned and
walked out of my field of vision, and he went on to life a good life,
wherever it was.


I considered going down to the lower level to see it from that angle, it was
such a joy to see him so happy, but then realized I couldn’t, it was over, I
couldn’t replay it, and I couldn’t change my vantage point. It was just that
one moment out of a time that was perfect for Stew, and there was no going
back.


He comes to me now and then to give me messages. Like that one. Each moment
is its own moment, and there’s no going back to do it over. I’ve been
procrastinating on some things, feeling conflicted about others, and
generally letting time get away from me. Sure, it’s been a super busy tax
season, and continues to be so, but really, is that any kind of excuse? It
shouldn’t be.


It’s a manufactured excuse, because it’s not the real reason I’ve been
stalled. It’s a convenient side issue that allows me to procrastinate while
I combat my feelings of not being good enough to do the additional things I
want to do. If I proclaim myself too busy making money (which in this
economy is something I truly appreciate being able to do), I can neglect the
things that will carry me forward. It’s like playing Whack-A-Mole, just
hitting on the immediate issues right in front of me and ignoring the things
in the background.


This post was meant to be about Stew, about seeing him happy and whole. I’m
sure that after he passed out of my line of sight he had something to eat,
something that was no doubt bad for him but tasted great, and he ate it
without having to vomit afterwards, without being in pain, and that too
would be unusual for him. But like most Stew things, it’s also about me, and
the things he taught me, and the things he continues to teach me. He saved
me once, when I first met him, and he continues to be there, reminding me of
the things I tend to forget. I’m really lucky that way.

-- 
Monique Colver