Beautiful Dreamers

Our family has dreams.

No... our family has DREAMS.

And we pay very close attention to them.

Years ago,

before computers,

when I lived in the Caribbean,

if I dreamed of my grandmother,

I'd have a letter in the mailbox the next day.

There was the time my mom dreamed she smelled gas.

We checked all of our pilot lights

then she decided to call her mother,

who lived 200 miles away.

My grandmother checked her pilots

and discovered one of the grandkids
had blown them out.

The kitchen was full of gas.

Then there was the time 

my father had booked passage

on a 5 seat Cessna going to the mainland.

He booked 4 seats,

one for him,

one for my brother Mark,

and two for my one year old son and me.

A week before the trip 

I dreamed the plane would crash.

I refused to fly.

My dad was PISSED off!

I took a commercial flight home.

My dad and brother flew in the Cessna.

It crashed.

They died

along with the pilot and a college boy

who was hitchhiking at the

Fort Lauderdale airport.

There have been many other instances

where dreams have either saved

or warned us.

And we KNOW how to tell the difference 

between it's "just a dream"

and "it is A DREAM!"

So when my son texted me at 3 am 

the second night I was in Carlsbad 

to relate to me his nightmare, 

it didn't take much for me to decide
to change my plans.

Good thing I did, 

or I would have been across two states
when my mother fell.

She was bringing in her big garbage cans
from the curb.

She stepped backwards and into a flowerbed
filled with rocks.

She lost her balance and fell backwards, 

hitting her back and hip
on a tall metal cable box 

sticking up out of the ground.

Neighbors wanted to help her up.

She refused, needing to catch her breath.

In the end, an ambulance came
and transported her

to Adventist Hospital in Hanford,

where she laid, broken,
on a gurney in the halls

from early afternoon
until 5:30 am the next morning.

She had broken her hip,

her femur was split in half,

and she had 3 broken ribs.

And she laid on a gurney in the hall 

for over 14 hours

at which time they informed my niece

that there was nobody there who was qualified 

to perform the repair surgery.

They called hospitals in Visalia and Fresno,

and all were full.

They finally transferred her by ambulance

to the trauma center in San Jose.

I got the call two days after arriving in Desert Hot Springs.

If I had not left early
I would have been in Eastern New Mexico.

As it was, it took me over 9 hours driving
 to get to San Jose.
I arrived just as mom had gone into surgery;

over 24 hours after she had fallen.

However, if I'd been in New Mexico,

there is no way I would have made it here

in time.

So... thanks Cameron, 

for knowing 

it was ok to text me at 3 am 

when you "had that feeling" 

that I should change my plans.

So I'm writing this in the parking lot 

of the trauma center in San Jose.

The good news is mom is doing better.

She is still in ICU and will be at least one more day.

They will then move her to a room,

and then discharge her to a Rehab Center

close to her home.

The other good news is I have a van,

so I'm sleeping and cooking quite comfortably,

while I wait for her release.

Life is interesting, isn't it?

A week ago I was angry at mom,

venting, and feeling sorry for myself.

Today I'm feeling sad for her 

and I'm also proud of her.

Watching her get out of the bed

a day after surgery

and stand,

when all they asked was for her 

to sit up and dangle her feet.

That's one strong-ass woman!

She'll be fine after a month or two.

I come from good, 

strong, 

albeit flawed, 

stock.

 I know it.

Anyway,

all is well for now.

Take care,

and Sweet Dreams!

Love,

Annie

Photo by Veronica Minozzi