The day began with a realistic nightmare of sorts. I usually do not remember my dreams, but this was so very vivid, and as the day wears on, the intensity of my grip on failure is fading, which I appreciate, but strangely the balance remains for contemplation.
During this dream I was not only in my body experiencing the environment. I was also not in my body or the environment. I was a nebulous entity watching events unfold powerless to intervene. This was really creepy.
Anyway, I was scuba diving or something and perhaps the air stopped working, this is not clear, all I know is that I was tightly hugging the non-functional tank in my arms as its weight pushed me deeper and deeper. I would not, could not, let go of what was robbing me of my life.
When I stopped sinking, in a thick limbo, not the bottom, I floated on my back in the dark, murky water, waiting to have to take a breath, and die. I was not distressed, just waiting. Then I realized that someone else was also there, and their presence urged, no demanded, that I return to the surface.
For a long time, there was just slow, small, but steady progress without an end in sight, and all the while, I found myself tightly holding on to the weight of the failure to come, and only the agitation that I would be taking another with me as they tried to save me, lightened the load, and kept me moving.
I must have been holding my breath, because I remember taking small surreptitious breaths. While doing this, the watching but not experiencing me, knew that I had failed. But I was ashamed, and I must have thought that it could be hidden, since the water was not rushing into my lungs, and I was not visibly choking and gasping for breath, my failure must still be a secret.
Eventually we reached a sweet spot, somewhere after the darkness, but still beneath the surface, that fissure between life and death. The peace and serenity there, floating in the essence of light, was incredible, and death did not matter. I did not want to continue, but the hand pushed me on to life.
As I began to accept the breach of the surface, and the return to the struggle of living, I could not understand why I had so wanted to hide my failure, my having to breath, even from myself if possible.