At the age of seven, I began dreaming a vivid nightmare. I stood in a large grassy field on a sunny day. A monstrous bee flew toward me. Its black, multi-faceted eyes conveyed malevolent intent. Its wings buzzed like a high voltage wire as it approached. I ran away from it but the bee pursued me. I could not out run it. As it caught up to me, I woke up terrified in my dark bedroom. I continued to have the same dream night after night.
I was normally a happy carefree kid. The dream left me tired and anxious the next day, and made it difficult to sleep each night. I told my mother about it. My description of the dream didn’t seem to worry her much, which reassured me. She suggested that when I went to bed, I should think of something pleasant.
That night, when I went to bed, I lay there thinking of baseball. I played catcher on a Little League team, so I thought of the upcoming game and imagined myself getting hits, stealing bases and throwing out opposing base runners. I dreamed of the game and the bee bothered me no more.
Each night, as I lay in bed waiting for sleep, I thought of my next baseball game and dreamed of victories on the diamond.
After a few weeks, it occurred to me that each baseball game I played reflected the one I dreamed of the night before. The events of the
actual games matched the events in my dreams. It seemed whatever I dreamed happened in my waking life.
To my astonished delight, I discovered I could control my dreams and whatever I dreamed predicted the events of my life.
I told no one of my epiphany. I had a feeling that if I talked about it the spell would break and I would lose this extraordinary ability.
Sadly, I could not dream of unfortunate events so as to avoid them. Try as I might, I could not foresee my torn knee ligament or the death of my parents or the loss of my wife. I had cured myself of nightmares.
My favorite dreams were of flying effortlessly across the world. I could visit the rainforest one night and be home for breakfast. I
could stand at the summit of a mountain without fear of falling. But those dreams could not come true, in the morning, I was bound to the earth.
My dreams soon distracted me from all goals in my waking life. Achievements became irrelevant. One need only dream of a lottery number once. I wanted only to sleep.
The years passed. As age debilitated my body, I began to lose control of the events in my dreams. I lost control of the story of my life.
One night, I dreamed I was standing in a large field of grass. An enormous bee flew toward me. I felt the old terror envelop me. I began to run away but the bee followed. I took off into the air and began to fly as fast as I could. The bee continued to close the gap between us. I didn’t wake up. A piercing pain struck me between my shoulder blades and I saw the barbed stinger protrude from my chest.
I no longer wake up from my dream. Endlessly, I fly through time and space, but I am only a spectator. I cannot interact with the people or places I witness. I recognize no one, and no one recognizes me. I'm not quite sure that this world has any connection to the waking world I once inhabited.
Occasionally, I sit on a bench with someone who does not see or hear me and tell them my story. I don't know why. I'm compelled to give voice to my secret.