by Joel Cobbs
When I was awake enough, I'd listen to whatever it was I'd written during my sleepless nights. Whatever it was that seem to help calm my nerves enough to get a little rest. I'd make whatever corrections I needed to. The music flowed beautifully. It may not have been Richard Wagner and his Ring Cycle, but it seemed pretty good to me for a guy who's never tried to write his own music before. But even with the music, even with the Internet, and even with the pacing back and forth, I was still scared to go to sleep.
I wasn't sure how to react to the dream I'd had. Was it something I should be concerned about? Something that could be important or mean something more than what I saw? Maybe it was just what it was: a dream. Sure, it was a dream that was intense and real and much more passionate that I'd ever experienced, but it was just a dream.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to Dr. O'Nassis about it. I didn't think it was anything too trivial or something to worry over. At the same time, I figured it would be best to tell him about it, or at least talk to him about the insomnia, see if maybe there was something else causing it that I hadn't thought of before.
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“I think it's pretty good, Rob,” the man said.
“Really?” I asked. I was sitting in the music department of UAH. I was nervous and probably shouldn't have been there, but I was curious about my music. I wanted to know if it was any good. I'd settle for decent just as long as it was something that could be listened to without people's eardrums bursting.
“Yeah. I can see some places that could use some touching up, but for the most part it's not bad.”
“Well, thank you.” He showed me some part of the song and gave me some pointers on what to do. Some notes that would be too hard for an instrument to play. Melodies that sounded good, but would sound smoother and flow much better if down this way. Little things that needed tweaking.
I was excited and very happy with this news. I hadn't expected it and it seriously caught me off-guard. That the music only needed a few alterations was shocking. My stories had always been terrible, needing at least a million go overs before it was good enough to be submitted somewhere. I hadn't thought about the fact that it still wasn't good enough, which is why it hadn't been accepted. I thanked him for his time and advice and left. I had an appointment with Dr. O'Nassis in about ten minutes and needed to leave.
I still hadn't made up my mind about talking with him about the dream. I didn't know if I needed to go into all the details, talking about how it made me feel and the way it seemed to speak to me. I knew I'd sound stupid, as if I was reading too much into something so little.
It's only a dream, Robert I could hear him say. No need to worry so much about it. And it was true. There was nothing to worry about. It was, after all, only a dream. I got in my truck and left.
I had my iPod on The Lion King soundtrack. Listening to the music was a major comfort to me. Hans Zimmer had done an amazing job with the music, giving the movie the feeling of a true epic.
I made my way to Dr. O'Nassis's office. Traffic wasn't that bad. It wasn't the best I'd ever driven, but for once I didn't feel like I was fighting for my life.
Summer was still going strong. Classes at UAH didn't start for at least another three weeks, leaving most of my friends scrambling to make sure they were ready. I'd made up my mind I wasn't going back this fall. I would wait and make sure I was registered for the spring classes when they came around, but I wasn't ready for school just yet. I needed some more time. I needed to make sure I could handle it before I blindly dove into it.
I pulled into the parking lot and my usual parking space and turned off the truck. The spot wasn't reserved for me. Didn't have my name on it or anything. It was just the parking space I ended up getting every time I came for my appointment, even before Andalusia.
When I got inside, I'd made it just in time. It wasn't really a ten minute drive from UAH to his office, but I took my time. There was no one in front of me, I learned, and he ushered me into his office.
“How're things going?”
“Fine, thanks. You?”
“Not too bad, actually. Hoping some more rain will come through the area. It's getting to be a pretty dry year again.”
“My Dad is kinda hoping for less rain,” I laughed.
“Yeah, that's usually how it goes. We desperately want it, desperately need it, then desperately want it to go away.” We both laughed. “So what do you wanna talk about?” I was hesitant at first, still unsure about what to say and how to say it.
“I had a dream,” I said.
“A dream?” I nodded. “What kinda dream?”
“It was weird,” I started. “So real and believable. I actually felt like everything in it was happening to me. As if the whole time I'd been asleep, I really hadn't been. I'd awake and going through everything I saw.”
“What did you see?” I paused. I was scared, not gonna lie. I didn't wanna express this, but I needed to. I really needed to. “I saw Mom.”
“Really?” He didn't even pause out of shock.
“Really. I saw you, my friends, Mrs. Madison, everyone. I saw the car wreck.”
“What else?”
I told him everything that happened in the dream. I told him how incredibly real it was. I tried to get across that it was scary, and I hadn't been able to sleep.
“Had a bit of insomnia?”
“Yeah. I think it's cause I'm afraid to go to sleep.”
“Why?”
“Because it might happen again. The dream was too much for me to handle. I've never experienced anything like it before.”
“How'd it feel?”
“What?” I wasn't playing dumb, just unsure of what exactly he was talking about.
“The dream. Everything in it. How'd it make you feel?”
“It was,” I paused. I was searching for the right words to describe exactly what it was I felt.
“It was incredible. It gave me this sense of...of closure. As if I was being told everything was gonna be okay. As if what had happened wasn't really my fault. That everything had happened because it was supposed to.”
“Do you think it really was God?”
“I've been thinking about that. I don't know. I'm sure it could've been, or maybe my mind was trying to tell me something. Maybe some thing or someone was trying to tell me something.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I don't know. But I think I got the message.”
“What was the message?”
“Everything will be okay.”
“Sounds like a winner to me,” he said. “What else is going on in your life?”
I told him about music, about the piano playing. I told him about how the music made me feel, how it compared to the cutting I'd once done. I told him about my composing music, how that was something I was interested in doing. I told him about the UAH teacher who liked what I'd done and was helping me make it better. I told him I'd given up on writing books and decided to look somewhere else in life.
“It's not inside me anymore. I'm not sure it ever was.”
“Why do you think that? What's changed?”
“'What's changed'? Everything's changed. My life, my body, my thoughts, everything. I once was bitter, a cold-hearted person who hated the world. I didn't want any of this. I didn't need any of this. I just wanted to do things my way, get them done the way I thought they needed done.”
“Where'd that get you?”
“Everywhere I didn't know existed and never wanted to go.”
“What do you think about that?” I was silent. I'd been through a lot, more so than most people, let alone people my age.
It'd been a tough journey.
“I think it was for the best,” I said. “Sure it's been hard. Sure it's been pretty bad. But at the same time I kinda like the person I am right now. This person you see here. I'm sure things could've gone better, but...I don't really regret any of it.” We were both surprised at my answer, me more so. Our time was up, so we sai
d goodbye. I walked to my truck, having a new feeling inside me and a sense of happiness. Once again, things were looking up.
That night, long after I'd gotten home, taken my meds, and finished up a long, long day, I fell asleep, and returned to my dreamless void I remember so well and missed so dearly.
Chapter Twelve
Time marched onward. I saw The Dark Knight three more times with my friends, Mamma Mia! with Lisa and Michael, and had a movie night with all of them to watch classics. We spent more time together than we had before. More than I could ever remember us doing.
I finished up my pain medication and was taken off of it by first of September. Sometimes it hurts, like when I move my arm too fast or when I bump it against something. The doctors were impressed with my recovery and were happy to see how I was doing well again.
Dr. O'Nassis and I made incredible progress. By October, I was officially on once-a-month appointments. We'd discussed the dream constantly. The more we talked about it, the more real it became. We talked about how I was doing with everything, and I'd ultimately realized I preferred cold showers to hot showers, just never gave it a good enough try.
I'd started back school for that fall after all. I was hesitant at first, but with the help of the guidance counselor I picked some classes that were both stress free and would go towards my general education requirements. I was in all four classes with my friends, which certainly made things easier.
My piano skills were back where they'd once been, if not better. I wrote more music, played harder songs, and practiced as much as I could. It may not have been the greatest anyone has ever been, but it made me feel good to know I was getting better.
My writing life? Gone. It didn't bother me, not at this point. I found it easier to express myself through music rather than through words. Words, it seemed, were restrained. One person can read it and find it saying one thing, and other person can find the opposite. But music? Music is a completely different story.
It doesn't matter how many times you listen to it or how many different people listen to it, songs like Ride of the Valkyrie by Richard Wagner will still sound as powerful as he always has. For me, it seemed like writing wasn't like that. It didn't transition as well as something like music. It didn't have the same expression.
My life was now heading in a completely different direction, one I'd never thought about and certainly never believe it would happen to me. But in any case, here I was. I was changed.
Halloween was spent with my friends, staying up late watching horror films of all kinds. Thanksgiving was spent on the beach at Stuart, Florida, just me and Dad. We'd practically picked a random spot on a map and gone there. Dad had actually heard about it from a co-worker so we decided to give it a try. We bought food at the Boston Market restaurant and ate it on the beach.
Christmas was hard, no doubt about that. Christmas was split between both sides of the family. It was harder than we'd expected, but that's usually how it is. We both cried at the midnight candlelight service on Christmas Eve, both felt a little blue on Christmas Day. On New Year’s Eve, I hung out with my friends, he hung out with some of his. But after we got home, we stayed and watched the original Star Wars trilogy until the sun came up.
I returned to school for the spring semester and took General Ed classes again. My friends and I hung out more. Mom and Dad's anniversary came around and Dad took a week off and went out of town, which I know he needed. It was the lowest I ever saw him. It broke me down a little to see him this way. The two of us making so much progress and now it seeming like this one time could destroy us. But it didn't. We bounced back, a lot quicker than I expected.
My birthday came around and I had another surprise party, though this time I didn't try to find out. I was genuinely surprised. I hadn't expected them to do anything like that. I figured they'd give up after last year, but that hadn't. I'm sure glad they didn't.
Being with my friends certainly helped me. It made me feel so much better, more so than I ever thought it would. It was a good thing to know and accept that they were there for me. Sure, I'd known it. I'd known it for a long time. But I'd never really accepted it. I'd just kind of...kind of waved at it as it passed by, but that was it. I didn't go over and greet it with open arms or anything like that. But now I did. Now I begged it to come home for dinner.
The summer was stressful with the economic downturn. Barrack Obama had been elected and I hoped he did a good job. I knew there'd be a lot against him, in more ways than one, but I wanted him to do a good job. I knew, without a doubt, that one wrong move could set this country back years. If he was assassinated by a white man, I knew there'd be borderline war in America. If he didn't do a good job and made things worse, I felt like that would set us back because no one would elect another Black man or woman to office. It stressed me out for the most part.
I voted for him, because I believed. I believed it was possible, that things really were changing for the better and hoped they would. I believed in America, that we were moving passed the barriers that were racism and hatred and were become more united than we'd ever been before. I knew it was true, just knew it. Those who accepted it? They knew it too. Those who didn't? I felt like they were in denial and still holding on to grudges. I knew progress was being made. I knew it.
By summer, my life had completely changed. And I am thankful every day for what has happened to me.
EPILOGUE
I stood in front of the gravestone. I'd come a long way from where I'd been the first time I stood here. The first time the stone had been placed here.
“I can't thank you enough for loving me,” I said. “You never gave up on me. You...you knew what it was I should do. You knew, you knew all along. And for some reason I didn't listen. I'm sorry, Mom. I don't know why I didn't listen to you.
“Maybe it's because I'm selfish. Maybe it's because I'm stupid. Maybe it's because of a lot of reasons I don't even realize, and probably never will.
“I know you've always been with me. I've known it all along. It just...it just took me so long to come to terms with it, to accept it for what it was.” I paused for a moment and wiped the tears from my eyes. I was choking up and really needed to be going. “I wanted to give you this.” I pulled out an envelope.
“This is a copy of my acceptance letter to Julliard. I'm going to become a musician. I'm done with writing, as far as words go at least. I applied a while back and somehow made it in. It's going to be expensive and I know you and Dad always worried about me having student loans, but I think this will be worth it.” I laid it down next to the tombstone. It was a plain envelope. When I first read it, I cried and cried and cried. I was so excited. I'd been taken out on at least three congratulatory dinners. The envelope was attached to a dozen red roses. It wasn't Decoration Day or anything like that, just my gift to her for never giving up on me.
“I love you, Mom, and can't thank you enough.” I blew her a kiss, and walked away.
The pain never really goes away, I know that. There would be days in which I wouldn't be able to get up because I could feel her near me. But there were also days in which I would laugh for no reason, simply because I now understood what it was she wanted for me. She wanted me to be happy. I could see it now, and wished I'd seen it sooner.
I went back to the park several times to get a feel for what it was that happened. There were no answer, only the sounds of the birds telling each other the secrets of life. I sat there for I don't know how long and just listened to them sing. It was comforting to listen to them, hearing them talk to one another.
I know Mom and I will never speak again. It hurts me to admit that, but I know it's true. Every night, I would walk around the house, my dorm room, maybe even the yard, talking to her, just the two of us. Dad knew that was what I was doing and never objected, never mentioned it to me. I was finally heading in the right direction.
I don't know if what I saw really happened. I don't know if that was really God speaking to me or if it was
just two medicines and two wrong dosages coming together to form something completely meaningless. I do know it showed me something. It showed me how important some things are and how insignificant others can be. Personally, I like to think that, whether it was real or not, that it helped me a great deal and showed me a new way to live.
When I hit a bump, I stop and breathe. When I feel myself get angry, I just smile and let it go. My heart was healing, slowly but surely, one day at a time.
That's all one can really ask for in life, is time. Time to heal, move on, and accept what it is the past has brought us. Accept what it was that made us who we really are.
Acknowledgments
A great deal of gratitude goes towards my friends and family for their love and support. I couldn't have done this without them. Thanks to Mark Schultz who provided endless inspiration through his powerful music. Thanks goes to the many other musicians who, without knowing it, helped this book make it as far as it did. Also owe thanks to the book “Cutting” by Steven Levenkron, which provided an endless amount of information, and to the website http://www.selfinjury.com/. A large debt of gratitude is owed to my wife Callie, for giving me the encouragement I needed. And, most importantly, I owe thanks to my Lord and Savior, who has been there with me every step of the way.
References:
Levenkron, Steven. Cutting: Understanding and Overcoming Self-mutilation. New York: W.W. Norton, 1998. Print.
S.A.F.E. Alternatives®. Web. 07 Apr. 2011.
Strong, Marilee. A Bright Red Scream: Self-mutilation and the Language of Pain. New York: Penguin, 2009. Print.
Shapiro, Lawrence E. Stopping the Pain: a Workbook for Teens Who Cut & Self-injure. Oakland, CA: Instant Help, 2008. Print.
Cornell Research Program on Self-Injurious Behavior in Adolescents and Young Adults. Web. 07 Apr. 2011.