I had not dreamed in over a year. It was probably the truck. I don’t remember being hit by it. I don’t recall anything of the the next two weeks in hospital. It was probably the TBI.
When I was allowed to leave the hospital a month later I did not know where I lived, but I knew the woman driving was my wife (and an RN) and so likely knew where to go. Other details of my life were coming back. I knew what TBI meant (Traumatic Brain Injury) because I was (or had recently been) an ED RN (emergency room nurse) at the very (and only) Level 1 Trauma Hospital that EMS (Emergency Medical Services) had taken me to after the MVC (Motor Vehicle Collision). At first I didn’t know where I was, then thought I was at work, but why am I not wearing scrubs? Sometimes I use parentheses too much, but then I’m brain damaged.
It was hard to pay attention to the little things, like the absence of dreaming sleep. May have had something to do with the third degree burns, skin grafts, double vision, cognitive therapy, all the out-patient stuff. What just isn’t there anymore is easy to overlook compared to other things (add home foreclosure, moving…). But I didn’t end up in a SNF (Skilled Nursing Facility) sitting in a wheelchair with a towel over my chest that some kind nurse had put there to catch the drool. I couldn’t smell anymore, had no libido, didn’t dream, but what’s to complain about?
Then I sort of started dreaming. But it was always sort of the same dream. I would dream I woke up, was in the same house (the one we had to move to in the countryside after the foreclosure), but it was a different house. (But it was always the same different house!) The rooms were the same rooms—they where were they should be, but everything in them had been replaced. The oak flooring was the same, just more worn in places. And there were people I didn’t know coming and going, or just doing things. I tried talking to them but was ignored. I even tried touching them, but it was like I didn’t exist. When I tried touching anything, I felt nothing. When they were cooking, I smelled nothing (but then I don’t smell anymore). When they spoke I heard nothing. When I touched something, it never moved. I noticed that if I pressed on a sharp edge, my flesh didn’t deflect. So in my sleep of dreams I can only see things.
I see things: O odd new world that has such people (and things) in it. There is nothing frightening, it’s just that everything is unstuck in time, everything is a bit odd. I see things, I walk around, then I wake up (again) but in the putative real world. This went on for several months. My ability to recall what I had seen improves. I became interested—more and more interested. I started writing down my recollections. I started studying the things I saw through the glass darkly with the thought of building the things themselves to see if they really worked and so others could see them. I did and they did. Others became interested in my traveler’s tales.
So making a website seemed like a good idea. I blog about my latest visions, and as the bits accumulate I’m working them into an ebook just to better present the particulars of the case to all. The ebook is free, a work in progress, and it is the best place to start. Read it, skim it, scan it, and to keep up to date, start following the blog. I’m calling the ebook “The House that Dreams Built” and the blog can go by “Dreaming Dreams” although they really aren’t the sort of dreams, so far as I know, that other mortals have dreamed before. I’ll continue to try to actually make the things I see in dreams of what looks to me to be the future. By making them I can take pictures and share, and not just describe. I can’t work as a nurse any more, so I gotta do something.