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At 7:25 A.M., I awoke with this disturbing dream:

I drive my car to the Visiting Nurses Association, a complex of many buildings, for my day of orientation. I discover Valet Parking at the main entrance, and an employee hands me a claim ticket in exchange for my keys. The day passes with new learning of my responsibilities. Then, I find my way to what I thought was the main entrance to pick up my car and return home. However, I am lost and no one is around to ask for help. I’ll have to walk. I’m angry as I finger my claim ticket.

In the dream I’m still healthy, still driving, still working, but that’s not what’s going on. It’s about my car, a symbol that used to carry my body from place to place. Having worked with the Visiting Nurses Association in the past, I deem it appropriate to return there to learn new interventions for my ailing lungs. I’m in control or so I think I am.

The employee with Valet Parking, perhaps God in disguise, welcomes me, and hands me a claim ticket in exchange for my keys. Still thinking I’m in control, I go about my business, to my satisfaction. Later, I look forward to an evening of relaxation as I seek the main entrance and the retrieval of my car. I’m lost, alone, with no one to help me, a condition that engulfs me when not in conscious contact with God. My anger mounts. All I have is the claim ticket for a new body/car to be received after my transition.

Reduced to walking for the present, I clutch the claim ticket. Anger burns in my psyche.  I grieve.

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