Mark

It's not that often I awaken from a dream and start to cry. Today, that was different. During one part of my dream, I wondered, 'Is this a story dream?' But after I woke up from it, I realized, 'That's not a story; that's my life.' And the tears came flooding out of me.

It was a dream about my late cousin, Mark Carver.

As much as it hurts, I need to talk about this dream. I need to talk about it. In my dream, Mark was 10 years old and autistic. The first thing makes sense; that's one time in our lives I remember seeing him. (We're the same age.) The second part... being autistic. I don't know why that was in the dream. As far as I know, Mark wasn't autistic.

Anyway. My grandmother used to have a dog named Gigi. In the dream, Gigi was Mark's assistant dog. (She died many years ago.) The dream took place with everyone getting together at this BIG house for a visit. Something like a family reunion, but both my dad's side and my mom's side were there. (My Uncle Jerry was "responsible" for Mark -- I don't know why. I didn't see Mark's dad.) So, anyway. Mark and I were hanging out. In the dream, I was a little younger, too, though I don't have any idea of a specific age. At one point, Mark and I were standing near this HUGE pair of open doors, where a very wide, expansive field stretched out before us. (It wasn't a perfectly green field; it was like a "wheat field." I ... think. Green and brown field with stalks sticking up in certain areas.) There was a cliff at one edge of the field, FAR away from the house. So Mark goes, "Where's Gigi?" Now at this point, there'd been some piano music playing in the background. It was really low. And now it started to escalate as I said, "I'll find her." So I started looking for Gigi. And then I see Mark wandering through a dark hall and out the door. There were butterflies in the field. He looked at one and said, "Empty butterfly." It flew away and he started chasing it.

The music got louder now.

I saw myself again, looking down at Gigi walking to me, wagging her tail. I said, "Wait, here she is." Then I turned to see that Mark wasn't there. I started calling his name and going all over the house, looking for him. I was upstairs and I looked out this window to see Mark running across the field, reaching for a butterfly. "Mark!" I screeched, then ran out the room and down the stairs. "Mark ran out the door!" I cried as I ran through a room containing family members and a bunch of them got up and ran outside with me. My Uncle Jerry, however, lingered behind, sadly looking down at Gigi as she stood by the door.

Well, we were all running out to Mark, trying to stop him. He was headed right for the cliff. I was calling his name. That piano music played really loud now. It was fast piano music. I was calling out to Mark, running to him, calling to him to stop.

Then the dream ended.

And then I remembered: Mark wasn't with us anymore.

Mark died in a car accident almost 3 years ago. He was 29. His death crushed me then and as I cried after I woke up from that dream, it crushed me again. I mean, at one point, I tried to get myself together. I looked down from my bed to see my dog sitting there, patiently waiting to be let outside. I wiped away my tears and numbly got out of bed. I started walking, moving out of my bedroom. But I didn't get very far. I fell to my knees, crying all over again. I curled up on the floor, my heart physically hurting as I cried. (I cry now, typing this.) In my mind, I was screaming, "Oh, my God. Why?! Why?!" I wasn't asking why Mark was dead. I mean, I have asked that question so many times since that day it happened. Since that day I found out he was gone. I was asking God.... why did I have to have that dream?

I continued to cry until I couldn't breathe. Then I could only sit there, sadly staring into nothingness as I sniffled and wiped away tears.

There had to be a reason why I had that dream. My mind searched through it all over again, but all I could hear was me calling Mark's name and that damn piano music playing. The music lingered. I closed my eyes as more tears came, shaking my head. Trying to make sense of it. Why was Mark autistic? Why did he call a butterfly "empty"? What was the whole....significance of him chasing a butterfly through the field?? He seemed happy when he was chasing it. He was, lost in his own happiness. And nobody, not me and not anybody else, could get through to him. To get him to stop. He was happy and that is the feeling he had right before.... what happened next in the dream. He died happy.

Was this the message I was supposed to get? I know, I know. People say that they are just dreams! But it's not like we dream of lost loved ones every day! It's not like this dream was in vain. That's why I need to talk about it.

This dream was not in vain. Mark's life was not in vain. And his happiness.... the fact that he died happy. That shall not be in vain, either.


To read a poem I wrote in Mark's memory, which was read at his funeral, click here: http://dmcwriter.tripod.com/dawnsblog/id3.html (It's on the top right side.)