Around 4 A.M., I awoke with two illness dreams:

I am dressed but very unwell. I sit next to another woman, also with symptoms, anxious and self-absorbed. We wait for the delivery of medicine.

I am weak, can barely stand as another holds me from behind so that I can receive communion. Everything blurs before me.

This is the first time I remember appearing ill in my dreams, and significantly so, on my eighty-sixth birthday. My psyche reveals major distress. I’m powerless, depressed, barely alive. Only the compassion of others can sustain this onslaught of diseases that envelope my entire being.

On a deeper level, I search for understanding. True, I’ve had problems with my word processor and have been unable to compose for several days. Such focus, alone, establishes communion with Higher Power; without it, I become disconnected, abandoned, and anxious. True, more signs of aging, apart from my terminal illness, are appearing in my old body. And perhaps I’m still trying to fix myself.

Certainly, deeper acceptance is called for. Denial has no place here. It’s only moving forward, twenty-four hours at a time, supported by CPA’s Twelve Steps and the spiritual fellowship. And certainly, deeper emotional honesty is called for, as well. My eighty-six years of life feel like a heavy mantle over my shoulders, and only Higher Power can bring about its acceptance and deliverance.

So like a flickering candle-flame, I wait in the darkness for the next dream and its direction …