She Came In a Dream
The face that found me in my dreams, Spring of 2014
Crisp autumn air floats through the window as I get dressed. The mighty Sequoia tree looks slightly more out of place this time of year, as the maple, birch, and hemlock trees radiate brilliant reds and yellows and oranges. There’s some moisture in the air – maybe that rain will come after all – and it prompts me to throw on my hoody instead of a flannel. I close up the window, grab my journal, and bounce down the stairs. Bey greets me, tail wagging, eyes bright and smiling. “Ready, buddy?” I ask as I let my hand brush over his head, knowing the answer already. He’s a Border Collie, he’s always ready. The now empty breakfast bowl gets placed into the sink, I grab his leash, and Bey beats me to the door. As always. Opening the door, Bey turns to me and shifts his weight to help me scoop him up. Stairs have been a no-go for a while now.
As we approach the side door out into the world, I hear some sort of movement. Glancing around, I note that it is not coming from inside the garage. Swinging the door open, Bey and I step through to find a dog, sitting against the wall of the house, silently watching us. Bey shuffles close, gives a friendly sniff, then carries on by. I take the dog in: relatively non-descript, some sort of tan or brown color, tentative, cautious eyes. Uncertain. Hopeful, but guarded. I simply say, “Hey, pup,” before I pass by, help Bey into his wheelchair, and we’re off on our walk to town. Before rounding the corner along the river, I glance back over my shoulder. The dog is still there, statuesque, watching us go.
Each day unfolds in the same way. I note the ever-increasing chill in the air – autumn is settling in in earnest now – Bey and I venture out to town, and this dog remains. She is steady, reserved, as if she’s hoping to simply blend in and be a permanent fixture of the garage wall at River Road. In the morning we leave, each greeting the pup on our way by, and at the end of each day we return, doing the same. The dog remains. Unchanged.
On the fifth day, it changes. This time, as Bey and I re-enter the garage, I hesitate. Door ajar, I pause and look at the dog. Bey senses I’ve stopped so he does too, turning and looking at me with inquisitive eyes. I glance at him before looking back at the dog, opening the door further, and patting my leg. “C’mon, girl. C’mon inside.” She quietly moves, for the first time since she appeared, and follows us inside.
- - -
Soft melodies of strumming guitar notes filter through my ears, swirling with the images in my head. It takes a few minutes for my brain to register that this is not part of the dream, rather my alarm working hard to pull me from my sleep. Grumbling, I reach my hands to my face and wipe away sleep, rolling over to turn off my alarm. It takes me a moment to orient reality from the dream world I was just in. You’re in your bed in Denver. Right. I groan as I roll back over, and Bey assumes his favorite position, pressed against my side. “Hey buddy. Good morning.” I feel a tail thump as his paw stretches toward me in return. “Just one more day before our road trip to Jackson Hole. But today I’ve got to go get our truck from Boulder.” Something between a grimace and a smile crosses my face, as I remind myself that yes, I did just purchase a new-to-me truck, somehow believing it was a justified purchase. Really, I just wanted a diesel truck.
I drift through the usual morning routine, getting Bey his breakfast as I get water boiling for coffee. I hear my housemate and his son upstairs getting ready for their day, and I remind myself I need to stay on track so that I’m ready to go when they are. My housemate was kind enough to offer to drive me to Boulder to pick up my new truck from the dealer. I felt a nervous sort of reality check, both for the actual bringing home of the new chunk of change and spending that much time alone in a car with my housemate. He was a nice guy, but we hadn’t had reason to spend that much time together.
Wheels are rolling down the highway now, “today’s best hits” floating through the air from the radio. Conversation is sporadic, but I’m grateful for that. Last night’s dream pokes at me, pulling through the layers of my consciousness. It felt puzzling, at once anticipatory yet paradigm shifting. I tease out the threads swirling within me, tracing them backwards to different points in the dream, trying to make sense of what intuition seems to be stirring. I step through my dream, one beat at a time, seeking understanding. So far, there are two feelings that stir the loudest:
1) The dog felt familiar, while at the same time looking entirely non-descript. The most notable thing about it was the color, and even that was as vague as dream details can be. It was a shade of brown, almost dusty.
2) I needed to look at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary’s website again.
I let that second point sink in. It feels befuddling. After all, I’m scheduled to drive up to Jackson Hole, Wyoming tomorrow to meet True, a special-needs Border Collie who sounds like he’s well matched to Bey in heart. Until waking this morning, I felt adamant that True was the dog for us. This dream seems to be shifting that. Well, I suppose I’ll be looking at BFAS later. I feel a little fickle, ungrounded.
The importance of the pull outweighs any self-judgement.
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More to come on Tuesday, December 17.
