Dying in a Dream

I'm not really one for sharing dreams but I feel compelled to share this one with you.

It happened a couple of nights ago.

I was laying on the backseat of my parents' car. I wasn't well at all. I think the car was going really fast, so I'm guessing we were whizzing our way to the hospital.

All of a sudden I floated out of my body and sat up straight. There was no panic whatsoever. In fact, I was really calm, collected and at peace.

I said, 'Dad, I think I've died.'

But even though I had said those words they were silent. Come to think of it, it was exactly like a thought. I was aware that my words were silent to the ear, but I also knew that my dad could hear me.

He turned around instantly and gently nudged my body. When he saw that it was lifeless pandemonium broke out in the car.

My parents were crying and panicking and all the while I was saying to them (silently, as before), 'I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm here.' But I knew it was futile. They couldn't hear me anymore.

And I knew why.

It was their fear.

Their fear was overriding that part of their psyche that only a moment before was alert and sensitive enough to hear my silent words.

** Reflecting on the dream, I can't help but think that this is exactly what happens when we die. And those who are left behind block the channel of contact with fear of their own death and the suffering they cause themselves through grieving severely.

***

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The Death and Birth of Dreams

I'm happy to announce that my new book, Happiness & Honey, is now out to buy in paperback and on electronic formats.

The short fable is about a bee who exists at a time when bees didn't believe they could fly. They spend all their time slaving away to make honey. Billy was a bee who dreamt he could fly, but was told to turn his back on his silly dreams, to get some responsibilities and to go to work and make as much honey as possible.

I remember when the idea came to me: I was out walking on a cool day after a really hot spell. It was early in the year, too - Spring, I believe. I stepped over a bee on the pavement that also looked like it was out for its daily stroll. Then the idea popped into my head about a bee that couldn't fly.

I'm a guilty dreamer . . . for ten years I entertained the dream of becoming a music producer. I pursued it right to the very end, signing along the dotted line of the contract when I was 23. But it turned out that I had outlived the dream. I no longer resonated with the role of music producer. So much resistance and uncertainty took place around that time that I can remember crying myself to sleep one night.

I was saying goodbye to a part of myself that I had lived and breathed for a decade.

I was grieving the death of a dream.

It didn't help that I had identified myself with the outcome of the dream - so when the dream was realised and fell flat on its face, I was left asking who I was.

I remember a friend saying to me at the time, 'This could be the best thing that ever happened to you.' And he was right, for now I had space in life for something that would be up to date with my ideals and my sense of self.

It occurred to me that if I had got a recording contract, I could have and do anything I put my mind to. 

This is how writing came into the picture.

I had wanted to write a book since I was very young, but making music always took precedence.

Having written three books so far, I intend to continue . . . but who knows, maybe I'll turn my back on it further down the line and take up painting as a means of expressing myself.

Although I can't draw to save my soul . . .

Happiness & Honey is available on Rowanvale Books

I hope it touches the dreamer in you.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk