To sleep, perchance to dream.
This is a short story written from a prompt as part of the "Same Walk, Different Shoes" community writing project.
“Same Walk, Different Shoes” is a Substack community writing project that Ben Wakeman organized as a practical exercise in empathy. The premise is simple. A group of writers anonymously contribute a personal story of an experience that changed their life. Each participating writer is randomly assigned one of these story prompts to turn into a short story. The story you are about to read is one from this collection. You can find all the stories from the participating writers at Catch & Release. Enjoy the walk with us.
Ever had a dream that you knew came from the depths of your soul? A message from the universe, nudging you back on the right path?
It is as if we were made to dream.
A self-induced coma. Perfectly crafted to allow us to dance back among the stars.
As the sun sets, and we crawl into our beds, our atoms let out a deep sigh. Free. Free to believe, to wish, to hope. Casting out their metaphysical dust, carrying with it the wisdom of the universe gone by, a purpose and meaning we are yet to understand. Each particle drifting and joining with its neighbours, a silent acknowledgement, a quantum connection.
Snakelike.
Weaving its way between tissues, between each breath.
On the edge of life, the edge of death.
A ballet.
A remembrance.
As I dream, I am reminded of the lives I have had before and who my soul wishes to be. I twist and twirl among the stars. I remember.
In this life it feels as if my human body has come to me broken and fragile.
I am the child on the side-lines, feeling the heat of parental stares, the whispers of pity. I sense their thoughts as if they are my own. I rip up the grass from its roots. Green with envy as the others holler to one another, aggressively tackling and skidding for the ball. Anger rips through my bones, the very bones that seem to have defeated me, that have robbed me of joy and laughter. The camaraderie of team sports is all I wish for. To feel as if I belong to the universe. That the Earth wants me here.
In my dreams I am no longer frustrated. I have been liberated from my prison. I run as if I have no care in the world. I shout and bellow until my throat is sore. Jostling for the ball, a friendly elbow, a tussle, jumping high into the air as we score. The scratchy material of my football shirt as we hug, the mud splattering against my shins. I am 9 years old again, reliving a life that wasn’t quite mine. I feel it all. I feel…full. Love is here and life streams through my veins as we hug and chant.
Finally.
Joy chose me.
I am woken by the tick and whoosh of the pump. I watch the drips seep in, tracing the PICC line with my thumb and forefinger. I am too tired to fight. Is this it? Is this all my life will be? You show that all is possible, that a body so willing to give up, is a body that needs love and care more than any other, my guardian angel murmurs. She, the holder of the faith. They say that hope is the conduit of miracles. Am I the miracle? Have I been sent here to show that a broken body is not a broken spirit? Am I the messenger? Maybe it all means nothing. Hocus pocus. Fancy words, and a lifetime of fear. An assembly of atoms is all we are, and like the forever rickety wardrobe, I am missing something that is so desperately needed.
Resting my head back on the armchair, I surrender. The hours I spent conditioning my body out of its faults, wasted. I am destined to be these pieces, never quite whole.
What do you want from me? I whisper into the ether.
That first day jumping in the ocean, the cold shock ripped through my body. Despite the sweat that had encased my muscles as I ran, the deep freeze made me feel vital. Alive. Needed. Every anxious thought vanished in an instant, my body brought back to its roots. Keen to survive. Desperate to feel. The sky was clear, and the cawing of the gulls a sweet melody to warm my soul. A grey world now technicolour. Effervescent greens of seaweed, my love jumping up and down on the shore, chalky sand at her feet and red ribbon in her hair. I watch as if she is in slow motion, the ribbon waving in the wind, slowly unfurling and soon to be lost in the breeze. I cherish the memory of this day, where I defied my own destiny. Where tiredness evaporated.
The cycle was imminent.
I could not wait for it.
The stars danced within me. This body, this body was born to move.
Joy chose me.
In those moments, I wished those parents could have seen me. Those that doubted me. The teachers who believed I would be anything but athletic. Those that felt sorry for the bone abnormalities that had followed me since birth. I was racing, yes, to make the team…..make the team?! I could barely believe it myself. But I was also racing for my life. I would no longer be stalled. There were no road blocks in my way.
Hi James, how are you? My hands are shaking as I press the phone to my ear. I nod and smile at Lisa as she squeezes my hand in reassurance.
Mmmm, good, good.
Look man, I was so happy to make the team, thank you for giving me that chance, you have no idea what it means to me….meant to me. I know it’s only been a couple of months but…….uh I can’t even say it….well I have this thing…..so I’m going to have to give up my place.
James? You still there?
No no, its not my exams, its uh…..well I’m in hospital…..nothing to worry about.
Well actually yeh it is. It’s cancer.
I know right? Yeh they keep saying the same. I’m 19. Life ahead of me and all that. I’ll be alright.
Uh-huh, yep. Yep of course. Thank you so much James. Yes she’s here with me now. Don’t worry. Thank you for the offer, but I just don’t know you know, what with the chemo and everything.
Yeh, haha! Maybe next year hey?
Hey man, thanks.
I don’t even realise I am staring, holding the phone somewhere between listening and placing. Eyes glazed until she nudges me. Her hand stroking the underside of my wrist. It’ll be ok she says. Forcing a smile, yeah. Hey, I’m just really tired would you mind? I stifle a fake yawn. No of course not, I’ll go get a coffee. Read. Shoes tip toe across the lino floor as I close my eyes. I hear her high pitched laugh as she makes a joke with the nurses, promising to be the last visitor in the ward. I’m never leaving she says.
Shakespeare once wrote “To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub, for in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”
Hamlet was forever tormented that his dreams and fears would follow him into the unknown afterlife, never having been lived. The actions taken would be the wrong ones. That those thoughts and feelings would never leave him. What am I to dream? A life long fight to be well again, to feel the blood pulsating through my body as I run, cycle and swim. Or do I give up? Live an ordinary life, grateful but never quite fulfilled.
As the ulcers proliferate in my mouth, and the waves of nausea and sickness attack me. I wonder whether this is simply my body reacting to the toxins, removing the waste, or if the aim is to weather my body again so all I am is these bones. These life deciding bones. I am being pushed back into my metaphorical box by the universe. You don’t belong here, I hear them say.
Ok universe. You win. I whisper. You win.
The appointments became less and less. The fatigue and occasional tingles in my hands and feet stayed to remind me of a dream lost. It became easier to forget with grad school classes, work and my life responsibilities. That dream was no longer mine. I slid into normality, the periodic pang as I passed a gym, or from seeing the sparkle of the sea in the distance. But soon I even began to ignore the nudges, the runners and the gym goers. That was no longer my life. The sparkle and grit that once existed, gone.
I cannot sleep, the light of the full moon streams in through the window illuminating the scar left by my PICC. Nestled neatly next to another from a skid and fall from the bike. I stroke them both, acknowledging their existence, the pieces, never quite whole. The poles of my life coexisting, I subconsciously chose the prominence of one over the other. The curtain lifts and sways in the breeze. I am reminded of Lisa on the shoreline, her red ribbon, as it flowed, tugged and pulled by the wind. Her excitement and my freedom. As the salty air caresses my skin, and the stars join the moon, I drift off to sleep bathed in their light.
My body is smooth, and I glide. Exonerated. As I break the surface and droplets of water fall on my skin, I inhale a breath of birth. The first. The sun tingles on my skin. I twist and twirl among the stars. The red ribbon floats by in the breeze. I remember.
Joy chose me.
Waking in the predawn, I am filled with excitement, butterflies and stardust. I escape the cool sheets, silently, hastily, packing my bag. I slip through the door, running on the path to the sea. Scrambling down through the chalky sands, I arrive at the shore. Welcome back, she says. We didn’t think we’d see you again. The sun crests the horizon, my toes feel the icy cold water.
And I remember.
Joy chose me.
With love and thanks to my prompt giver, for allowing me to live in your shoes these past few weeks and for helping me to discover a part of myself I didn’t know existed. With thanks to
for such a wonderful community project.
This was riveting. I was so drawn in by this young person’s yearning and determination. Beautifully written.
Bravo on your fiction debut Anna!