Two nights ago, I awoke from a dream that has been on my
mind ever since. I dream a lot, and 98% of the time, I don’t look too much into
them, because I don’t want to waste my day trying to figure out what the fuck
it could all possibly mean, because I have better things to do with my time.
Every now and then, though, something in a dream strikes me as relevant to my
life or my recovery, and I have to act on it. This was one of those dreams.
It started off innocently enough: Me and another guy—I knew
who it was in the dream, but there was never a face. I knew I was comfortable
with him—were lying in bed together. Now, it’s much more complicated than that.
We weren’t naked, we were just chiilin’ and there were other people in the
room. The room itself was a bit odd, as it was a mixture of indoors and
outdoors, as if Jan Brueghel the Elder had painted the landscape for me. There
were trees interwoven and rooted in carpet, campfire smoke filled the air, and vacationers unknown were
sitting in their Coleman camping chairs, happily chatting the day away. We all had one thing in common; we
were waiting for something. I don’t know what it was that we were all
expecting, but I knew that we all were going to be a part of it, and it was
going to be big.
Suddenly, a telephone in my pocket rang. It was an old
flip-phone, and the ring was that of an old rotary dialer: loud and sharp. I
answered. The voice on the other line sounded metallic and grainy, but I knew
who it was. I also realized at that moment that the ringing noise had sounded
familiar as well. I was now alone in a room, and I was talking on the phone
that was in the kitchen of the house that my late friend Mike Tambornino grew
up in, and that I lived in for a while. It was Mike on the phone. He was
calling to tell me that he was sorry he couldn’t make it, he was okay, and that
he would see me someday. And then I woke up. The sound of the voice I had heard gave me chills.
The significance of this dream is astounding. It was around
the time that I started doing my 8th and 9th steps that
he died, and he was on my amends list. At the memorial service, I told his
parents that I would call and come see them once the dust settled, and have a
talk with them. They didn’t know it, but I planned on making my amend to him
through them, because they were the closest people in the world to him, and it
would mean a lot to them. And I never called. I think about it a lot, and I
talk about it when I think about it, yet I remain inactive. I’m writing this so
I can be held accountable for my indolence, and take action. In fact, I’m going
to call right now. Stay tuned…
I’m in complete shock. Sometimes things happen in life, not
just in dreams, that make you question your own beliefs and life itself. Mike’s
mom answered and she was so happy to hear from me. Before I could get into
details, she told me that people had been calling her recently saying Mike had
been in their dreams, and he was telling them that he was okay, and that he was
moving on.
I choked back tears as I told her of my dream, and I
pondered my thoughts of an afterlife in just moments, all while I was sitting
on the toilet. It’s a strange place to have an epiphany, but it wasn’t any
stranger than the dream.
His parents have both retired since I saw them at the
memorial, and they’re planning to move to Bemidji on the 21st of
this month, so I had called just in time. We don’t have solid plans yet, but I
will be going over to their house for dinner one of these nights so we can
talk, laugh, cry, and share stories of one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I
never knew how much I missed him until he was gone. It’s time to make this
amend, and move on.
