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| View in rear view mirror on East Chop dee |
Have you ever had a dream that was so real that you would
lay good money down that it was real?
That happened to me a few weeks ago. I was flying back to Martha’s
Vineyard after a visit to my children in New York. I must have fallen asleep briefly. An overhead announcement jarred me. I was
first aware that my mouth had that dry papery feeling that comes from being a
mouth-breather in repose. With the plane
in descent, I gradually grasped that I was leaving behind a dream whose boundaries
and edges were fraying even as I tried to hold fast to them. Bits and pieces
fell away leaving me with the most peculiar feeling; it was like swimming awake
from a dream. When I found myself semi-lucid,
I tried turning over the dream -- hoping to make sense of it. The aspect that had the most staying power
was that the entire dream took place as I observed it from the rear view mirror
of my car, a Volvo XC-90. One of my
daughters was sitting up front in the passenger seat. My other two children
were buckled up in back. The moments
that I best remembered happened as my eyes roved back and forth over the road behind
me. I brought the kids home from elementary school, safely dropped them off at
our old house, then drove off again – on my own. Just before the overhead announcement
penetrated my dream, I parked in the Oak Bluffs cemetery. As I got out of the
car, I realized that I had spent the last two years driving through my life
while looking in the rear view mirror.
How limiting was that, right? To
be moving forward while keeping my eyes on what had already past? Compounding this mistake was a cautionary reminder
carefully printed in small letters, too lightly etched in the rear view mirror to
read without care. The label read, “Caution; OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR.” I wondered if that meant
the past was nipping at my heels.
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| dee |
The dream leapt forward in the way that they do, and I was manually
rotating the last gem of an idea like a gemologist at a metallurgy convention. If the object is not seen in the mirror, does
it follow that they are not close at all?
Did it follow that I am the creator of all that I see? The final descent
of the plane prodded me reluctantly toward full alertness. Upon landing, I grabbed my luggage from the
overhead rack in preparation of disembarking at the Martha’s Vineyard Airport. I
was oddly buoyed by this latest insight.
While patently obvious, it was a new way of looking at my propensity to
play over and over all the losses I have sustained recently. Apparently, my homesickness for brighter days
is misguided. As I stepped into a bright sunshiny day at MVY airport, I was optimistic
that I could retrain myself to keep my eyes fixed forward. The people, places, and things that have taken
foothold in my heart over the past five decades can stay safely committed to
the past. Some of them will move forward
with me, others will not. As I navigate
through through each day, my eyes must remain on the horizon, appreciating the
beauty, grace and goodness that surrounds me.
Occasionally, I will lift my eyes to take in the promising view all
around me, I feel certain that I will experience life more fully if I avail
myself of this entire 360 degrees of perspective.
A reminder mind leaps out at me every time I drive my car.
The words are laser-etched words in the mirror, “OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER
THAN THEY APPEAR .”
To that, I quietly utter to myself, “No kidding.” And then I put my car in gear
and drive.
