So often these days (or nights, mostly) my dreams are full of extremely sensual (no, not that, I said sensual you sexy-minded person you) moments, in which I taste, touch, feel as if I were my previous unimpaired physical self. It's great, almost never leading to feelings of loss or regret or longing or anything.
For example, the other night I (dreamingly) ate a hamburger, and could perfectly feel the bite through the layers of bun, lettuce, tomato, beetroot (it's an Australian thing) meat and bun, the mouthfeel, the manipulation of my tongue and teeth, and the swallow of a mighty tasty mouthful. It's been probably over a year, more like two years, since that's happened awake, and then it wouldn't have been terribly easy or enjoyable. In this dream I also was drinking a cold pint of Kilkenny (a bit like Guinness, but brown, not black, and softer to taste) with the full spectrum of tactility - including functioning hands holding the cold glass. Divine, I tell you, utterly wonderful.
But the dream the next night was even more beautiful. Or what I remember of it now, anyway. A friend had left me to look after her children, all under 5, one of which was a wee small baby. The two older kids were amusing themselves with a game on the floor, and I stretched out on my side on the couch, my arm tucked up under my head, with the baby on her back nestled against me on a little soft rug. I could feel the warmth and softness of her head on my cheek when I leant down, could smell that (clean, thankfully!) baby smell, feel the resilience of her little tummy beneath my fingers as I gave her a gentle rub; and it was just sublime. I should explain that lying on a couch in this fashion is not something I can actually do, nor is feel such soft things through my fingers, and in the dream I was completely at ease, 'normal' and relaxed physically, like I was sharing the baby's sense of comfort and all-is-good-with-the-worldness at that moment.
The recurring dream-theme that means the most to me of all though, the one that I sometimes wish for as I lie awaiting sleep, is where I can play guitar again.
In the dreams I am sometimes even a bit - though never a lot - better than I was, which is awesome. I am sure my body is smiling in real time when this happens. I cannot describe or explain the feeling of playing something really well, of 'saying' it as personally and clearly as you want to, but this guy HERE (do check it out if you have 3 and a half minutes in your life, you won't regret it) gives a hint. He is the best kind of guitar monster, I think.
Sometimes - well, usually actually - I am aware enough in these dreams to know that this is a special moment, to 'remember' that my body is not this way now, and when that happens there is often a sort of 'reality wobble' where my hands go all stupid for a second until my joy and desire kick back in and restore my facility to play as I was. I also still see and hear myself compose things anew, just as I did when I was playing all the time. Fresh, inspired things, and I'm aware in the dream that this is fantastic, underivative new stuff........and just as it always was, I remember that this happened when I wake, but never a bar or phrase of it. Damn.
I often wonder why this sort of stuff happens. Maybe it's just habit; my subconscious being the repetition machine it is simply hasn't completely caught up with my new physical reality. What do you think?
In any case, I now so much more appreciate the simple, ordinary things I always used to take for granted. I guess the fact that these dreams tend not to depress me is a good sign too. Perhaps tonight I'll play to a baby on my lap, taking a short break to nibble on something tasty in between sips of something rich yet refreshing. Mm, nice. My imagination awake is getting nearly as good as my dreaming.