I had this nightmare a few nights ago that I've become obsessed with. And I think I just need to write it out.
Now first of all, it wasn't technically a nightmare. It was what I have come to call a "limbomare." There's a point where you're lying in bed waiting to fall asleep--if you're like me, it takes an effing long time to fall asleep--and your brain becomes very vulnerable. Maybe it's just me. I'll switch to first person. So when my brain gets to this relaxed and vulnerable state, I often find myself entertaining thoughts that I keep at bay during the day, but sometimes they're totally random and not necessarily repressed. Either way, my brain sort of takes an idea and runs with it without my guidance, and so even though I'm still technically awake and aware, they feel like dreams because I don't feel like I'm scripting them.
On the night in question the thought of being shot crossed my mind. My brain took this idea of a traumatic injury and ran with it, and ended up with me losing my right arm. Now on the surface it's easy to think, "Well, at least I'm left-handed already so that's one less hurdle to jump in getting used to this." But losing my right arm would mean losing the entire way I live. Cello, gone. Guitar, gone. Piano, gone. I found myself getting really worked up as my mind tried to navigate what my new lifestyle would be like, and tried to deal with the idea of not being able to create music anymore. I had to figure out everything from how to get my hair into a ponytail to convincing my school to let me continue studying music education so that even though I couldn't play, I could pass on my passion for music. I could conduct with one hand, right?
It was comforting that my brain went there first, when it was tired and vulnerable and allowed to think anything it wanted. It still pointed me toward teaching and conducting.
Yesterday, I wanted to see if I could do it. Live with one arm, I mean. Starting around noon I tucked my right arm into my sweatshirt before I drove home from my weekly walk in the park. Turns out I'm kind of a pro at driving with only my left hand, and only had real trouble when I got home and tried to set the parking brake. But I managed to make myself lunch. And even though those are fairly simple tasks to modify for one-handedness, it was reassuring that I could do them. I think I tend to doubt myself quite a bit, so overcoming any obstacle feels really good and I savor every "Hey-I-can-do-this" moment, no matter how small it is. And if, heaven forbid, I ever were to lose my right arm, it's good to know that I would be able to wallow in the loss of my lifestyle and not need to worry about going hungry.
The last car on this train of thought is one that came to me today, when my brain was alert. I really didn't want to think it, but it forced itself in and won't let go. I have to wonder if this whole scenario didn't pop into my head because part of me wants it. I think I really like the idea of overcoming such a huge obstacle because it's not just losing the convenience of two arms, it's losing the ability to do what my life revolves around. Part of me likes how strong I hypothetically feel after accepting that I can't create music anymore and moving forward with a modified plan. Of course I don't want that. I want to keep playing music for as long as my vital organs are functioning. Maybe it's the fact that I've never really had a significant obstacle to face that makes my brain create really extreme ones like this. Either way, if I ever actually lose one of my arms, I'm going to a) hate myself for suggesting it to the universe and/or b) be simultaneously terrified and stoked that my psychic powers are finally showing themselves. Seriously. Psychic dreams run on my mom's side of the family, and it seems to have stopped at me. I've only had one that I can remember, and it was EXTREMELY minor. Boo.
This probably won't make me stop thinking about how I would deal with this situation. I keep revising it whenever my mind wanders. It's probably as simple as a phobia of commitment; now that I've applied to college and will be auditioning soon, and then going off to pursue an education, my brain is like "HOLD UP. Stop all this growing up and being serious nonsense. I mean really." That little voice tends to be really loud sometimes. But I think my cello is louder.
I just need the passion that's burning within me / we all know that's much more than enough. -Without Walls by GraySkiesBlues
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