His dreams were rough last night…relentless reminders of the
struggles that have occupied both his sleeping and waking existence these last
few weeks. Maybe tonight his thoughts will not hold him hostage. Even music
followed him into dreamland. Night songs beating in his brain like constant
pounding in preparation for battle; ear worms of songs he doesn’t even
particularly like…followed by cherished melodies that make him cry and long for
simpler days.
But were the days ever simple? You have likely seen videos of
someone caught in a storm yet they remain calm and choose to believe that nothing
bad will happen to them. His brain was the opposite – the everyday peace and
monotony of the day hoovered around him like sunshine on a Texas summer
morning, yet in his brain raged a hurricane. Sometimes the sunshine would calm the
torrent but other times it inflamed it for no particular reason. And there was
never a happy ending; the worst-case scenario always took center stage in his
mind. It was like that R.E.M. song…it was the “end of the world as he knew it,”
but he did not feel fine.
He hadn’t really travelled the world. Once to England and a
smattering of cities in the United States. Always connected to work and hardly
ever free to roam and make connections to the land. Yet he considered himself
an adventurer of sorts…he had the fedora and a suitcase full of memories to
prove it. But someone once laughed when he talked of his adventurous spirit and
reminded him that he was no more than a boring wannabe with a closet full of
ties and a teaching certificate. Although his new love had told him a thousand
times that she loved the professor life and he was all the adventure she would
ever need, the snarky comment of someone intent on hurting him stayed with him
like a contentious bone spur…always there…always reminding him of his inability
and lack of worth.
Alarms buzzing and the world in motion starts the routine
that he has known for over 10 years now. This daily journey begins with a smile and
warm embraces that remind him that he is enough. He is adventurous. He is the
traveler, even in his mind and in his hopeful dreams. She always supports him
and lifts him up. He can make at least one person happy in this corrupted
world. And that is enough.
Somehow his feet are numb and aching at the same time. A
daily soreness reminds him that he is no “spring chicken.” But his mind is
sharp and he knows his travels are far from over. If only he had a sign…a
crystal ball…a way to cut through the fog that shrouds his way forward. A map to show to show him how to find the next trail.
After a day of academic pursuits, it is time to take his
rest. He writes in his journal (the only counseling he has ever been brave
enough to choose) and then crawls into bed. Adventures, both good and bad, await
the traveler. For in his dreams he is that adventurer. He is all that he hopes
to be. For the night is the teller of tales and the conjurer of hopes. As the
numbness overtakes him, he knows tomorrow will bring another hurricane and
another cloudy mind.
But that is for another day. The weary traveler must take
his respite and let the river of dreams wash away his fears, always believing
that more explorations await him and his lifelong traveling companion.
