The "Nightmare" that Changed my Life
Original date: Sometime around November 2002,
Written in 2014
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Several years ago, I was living what seemed like an entirely different life. I was close to dying. In fact, I did not know it but was tempting death on a regular basis. You see, I had no idea of the danger I was putting myself into as I was a hard working single mom during the week and a ticking time-bomb of selfish rebellion on the weekend.
I was at the end of a failed marriage and dealing with the thought that my mother was facing a very untimely and difficult death. My own duration on this earth was in question and I was determined to get all the satisfaction I could out of it. Night after night I was going to clubs, after hours clubs, parties, drinking until I could no longer walk, driving when I shouldn't be driving, and behaving in ways that expressed utter disrespect for myself, my child and other people that I love.
Sometimes, it was all I could do to stay awake and alert enough to keep my car on the road during my 5am trips home from the clubs. Looking back, I was extremely fortunate that the frustratingly high traffic time was during the alert, exciting drive into the city and not during the desolate, lonely, exhausted drive home.
So tired one night, I had fallen asleep on the long arm of the living room sectional. It was comfortable enough, I could sleep on the cold hard floor just as easily. Life was dis-ordered, I had no rules for myself and certainly no hope. I awoke in a horrible state. A nightmare had stolen my sleep. It was so strong and so vivid that I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand the thought of being alone with my thoughts, alone with myself.
I reached out to the one person that I knew was always there for me. The one who would always answer my cry for help. I called my mom. We may not have had a smooth relationship at all times and I certainly brought her more than her share of heartache, but she was my mom and I could always count on her to help me in times of need.
Calling my mom at three o'clock in the morning was not exactly normal or without controversy these days though. Mom had Multiple Sclerosis. She was dying and we all knew there was nothing we could do about it. I hated the idea of waking her up and I apologized to her between sobs of guilt and pain. I knew she didn't mind, but I did. I was strong. I was Tina. I was the one that didn't care what other people thought and here I was calling my sick mom out of much needed sleep because "I" was needy.
Nevertheless, I had my mom on the phone where I needed her and I recounted the horrible nightmare that had just destroyed me.
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I was flying alone, hovering low in a helicopter over I-94. There was nothing but headlights to the left and taillights to the right as far as the eye could see. A drink in one hand and a cellphone in the other, I yelled to the people on the ground. "Haha - you suckers, I'm up here and you're down there". There was no traffic jam for me. On the phone was my friend Brooke. She should be here, I told her. What a blast I was having.
Things suddenly went wrong. I lost control of the helicopter and crashed right down on top of the traffic below. Somehow I survived and as I climbed from the wreckage, the images surrounding me were surreal. This was no traffic accident, this was the aftermath of a major explosion in rush hour construction traffic on a major freeway in Detroit. There were several overturned cars, displaced bodies - some intact, and things were about to get worse. Way worse. The vehicles fires had only just begun. All of these cars, all of this fuel. It was about to get hot. If I didn't climb up the steep embankment and get to safety, there was no question, I would certainly die.
As I climbed for my life up the mountain of patchy dirt and grass, I saw what was brewing at the top. A mob of angry people were waiting at the top. They saw me, they knew me, they knew that I was the one that caused all the carnage and pain below. I had killed their wives, mothers, sons and daughters and I was going to have to pay. In their hands they held sticks and stones and all kinds of makeshift weapons. They intended to use them.
I looked down and the fire was growing, climbing back down meant sure death. Climbing up and facing this angry vengeful mob meant sure death. Here I was, stuck in the middle and I had to make the choice.
I continued to climb.
As soon as I crested the top, I found myself in the middle. There was shouting and pointing and certainly no escape. Any thoughts of hope were gone. I had to pay.
Suddenly, something happened. I was removed from my body and stood outside the mob as a spectator. I could still see myself in the middle but, wait, how can I be out here? As I looked closer at myself, I realized that it wasn't me, it couldn't be me, could it? That person in the middle was a man.
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The beating commenced and continued as I watched in a putrid mix of agony and relief. Certainly, I was glad to be freed of the pain of my own consequences, but why. Why was he not telling them? Why was I not shouting out - It was ME. I did this. Don't punish him. It was ME.
Then our eyes met. I saw his face and he saw mine. In my pain and confusion, my heart silently yelled out to his, "Why, why are you doing this?"
His response, without moving his lips, I saw, heard and felt it clearly, "I love you. I'm doing this because I love you".
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I continued to sob uncontrollably at this point. The story was not yet over but this was the hardest part. My heart was broken. "How could I have let this happen?", I asked my mom. I don't care if it was or wasn't a dream. It felt real. It felt so real that it hurt, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, it hurt to imagine that I was such a terrible person that I would allow someone to do this for me. That I would allow an innocent man to take my place in this nightmare? I was wrecked with guilt, and I was oh so confused.
Sufficiently calmed and assured by my mother, I caught my breath and continued.
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I continued to watch as the man succumbed to the beating. The crowd started to dissipate as he lay there motionless, bloody and broken. I hid behind a scraggly bush as I watched three men scoop him up onto a plank of wood and hide his body in an old boarded up service station. After they walked away and I knew they were gone, I went to see him. I knew he was dead, but I couldn't leave it alone. I had to see him. I entered the station, saw the board they used to carry him, but he was gone.
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Again, I asked my mother, "How horrible of a person am I"? Could I really let this happen, could I let someone be killed for my weakness to stand up and be accountable?
Mom spoke in the calm way that most moms did. She assured me that I am not a bad person. And she wasn't sad or mad at me for thinking such things either. Instead she was joyful. I could hear the happiness and relief in her voice as she told me that this was no nightmare at all.
"Do you know who that was, Tina?"
I immediately knew where she was going with this. You see, my mother, who was only in her 40's, was dying, she was convinced that God was taking her home and I hated him for it. In fact, I was so out of touch with God that I had to believe that he must not even exist. How could there be a God that would take MY MOM away from us. After all that she had sacrificed for everyone else? After all that she had endured, how could I possibly believe in a supposed loving God.
"I know who YOU think it is, Mom. You think it was Jesus, right? You know I don't believe in that."
The conversation took a turn as she was explaining to me her thoughts on what had just occurred and she encouraged me to think about it some more and get some sleep. She had gotten me through the hard part and I was secure enough to lay back down and try to get some sleep. In the few moments before I fell asleep, our conversation ran through my head and now, I wasn't so sure.
The next morning, I woke up and it was amazing. I felt like I slept like a baby. I was invigorated, and the weight of the world was off my shoulders. I knew within me, I knew that day, that night, this was no nightmare.
It was that day, my life began to change.
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