Bravery

I woke with a start the other night, sucking in air and feeling shivers of shock course through my body. I'd dreamt of a dead woman lying in a dark room. She was blue and cold and though I am not a doctor, I was waiting for someone to arrive to tell me that this unknown woman was officially dead. Since I didn't want to stay in the dark room with the dead corpse, I closed the tall skinny door and waited for the doctor or the coroner to arrive. Seconds later, for it was a dream, someone arrived and I opened the door again. The woman was still stretched out on the bed where I'd found her and now the room was as chilly as her body.

"Is she dead?" I asked the doctor/coroner. The doctor/coroner was as much a mystery as the woman on the bed. I couldn't see him/her and when I woke up from the dream, I couldn't even remember this person's presence in the room.

I leaned over the woman. She was wearing white and her skin was equally pale. She had long fingers and wavy flowing hair spread out over her pillow. As I examined her more closely, waiting for the doctor/coroner to deliver the verdict, the woman sat straight up and said, "Why is it so cold in here?"

That's when I woke up swallowing air, feeling my heart beat through my chest. Needless to say, it took awhile to go back to sleep.

There are a million interpretations to this dream -- while I'm leaving teaching, I am still a teacher and not dead yet; despite my worries of what I'll do next, I'm still kicking; I'm in this journey alone and on and on -- but it didn't make me rest any easier knowing that the dream was simply a reflection of my psyche.

It felt so real.

My dreams have always been vivid and realistic even when I was a child, but this was the most realistic dream I've had in a long, long time. It's stayed with me for days now. Early this morning, when I woke to pee, I couldn't go back to sleep because I kept trying to remember every detail of the dream: What was the dead woman wearing? What color were the sheets? How big was the room? Straining to remember the dream brought back the panic and I found myself staring at the ceiling at 4:30, listening to the dog snore at the end of the bed.

My decision to leave teaching and move forward without a real job has had an interesting impact on those around me. The most common reactions are these:

1) Good for you: This comes from people who are, by nature, positive and encouraging, but also a bit burned out in their own jobs. They are proud of me for taking the plunge they feel they cannot. I understand these people, but I want to tell them that they too can join the ranks of the unemployed, that I was no more trapped than they are, and that while they are encouraging of my choice, I'd sure love a little company.

2) What will you do next?: This comes from people who feel that everyone must do something all the time and (like me) worry when they are doing nothing. This is the thought that keeps me up at night -- the unknown -- and I find myself floundering around with my time trying to plan out all the possible options.

3) How brave: This comes from people who see change as an act of god not one of free will. That someone would actually bring change upon themselves requires more bravery than intelligence. That someone would leave a perfectly good job without another job to jump into have courage and chutzpah something they don't see themselves as having. I want to grab these people by their shoulders and say, "I am not brave. In fact, I'm beginning to think I am very, very stupid, but bravery is not at play here at all."

In those early morning hours when I'm contemplating my situation, bravery is the farthest thing from my mind. Rather I feel confused. Which is more difficult -- to stay in a job that eats at your soul or to leave it for something unknown? Is bravery about running from one thing into something undefined or is bravery about staying in the same thing and never knowing what lies beyond the horizon?

Hence the dead-but-not-dead woman of my dream. She is neither fully dead nor fully alive. She is so cold with uncertainty she turns the temperature of the room to something that resembles ice and darkness. Is she brave? Does she just need some encouraging to go on living? Is she simply contemplating what will come next after she warms the room? Was she ever really dead or just faking it? Perhaps resting. Perhaps meditating. Or maybe she was just waiting.

On our walk this morning, Rubin counted squirrels. They teased him from the trees and darted across the sidewalk inches in front of us. At one point, he walked with a bit of a limp. Generally this means he has something stuck to the bottom of his paw and by removing it, I remove the limp. But this morning the limp persisted.

Until he saw the next squirrel. The limp was cured and for the remaining mile of our walk home, he pranced with his ears at the ready and his tail tight and curled. The possibilities were endless. Squirrels could appear at any given moment.

I know Rubin is in my life to teach me how to live in the "now," but I somehow forget that lesson and need multiple reminders. There are squirrels every where. You can feel dead one minute and alive the next. You can walk with a limp or race with abandon. There are more possibilities than the evidence might suggest. If you assume the future, you will be shocked and breathless when an alternate reality emerges.

Now is now. Brave or not, now is now. What I will do next is exactly what I will do next.

And so I begin...again and again.