Channel 4, the official broadcasters of the 2012 Paraolympic Games, are running an advert at the moment. It asks three gentleman, all in wheelchairs what they dream about. One says he always walks again in his dream. I think the other says he never dreams of walking. The third laughs and says he doesn't know what they are dreaming about but in his dream he is just surrounded by wonderful women and doesn't take any notice if he can walk or not.
This really made me smile. Then it made me think. I have been doing that a lot lately. I have been in that sort of philosophical mood, which doesn't always make me seem very happy. But it isn't that I am not happy. It just means that I am thinking. About everything. About nothing. About stuff. Sometimes my mind just needs to do that. Maybe that is the writer in me.
It made me wonder about what J1 dreams about. I can ask J2 and he always answers the same thing - 'Lion ROOOOOAAAARRRRRR'. If that is true it may account for his truly erratic sleep behaviour! But whenever I ask J1 he pauses, says 'Errrrrrrrr', pauses again and then sets to his default question -'Where is Daddy's car?' This means you are not going to get an answer to your question.
So I am left wondering. I am left wondering if he dreams of walking and running. Does he dream of running around the playground, or competing able bodied in sports day? Does he bounce on the trampoline until he feels sick and sweaty? Does he run along the sea front running up and down the steps to the beach until we tell him not to do it anymore? Does he run up the steps to the cafe to buy his ice-cream?
I have a recurring dream. Not everyday but always the same. J1 walks into my bedroom and asks if he can wear his football shirt for school. As wonderful as that is, when I wake up I get the crashing reality of life. And that is painful. Like when people say after they have lost someone, for that first few seconds of the day when you wake up, everything is perfect. Then your memory comes to life and reminds you of days and events past.
No matter how many years fly by, and how much I come to terms with / adapt to life as we now know it, the actual reality of knowing my son has brain damage is still a bastard. It makes my heart ache with the longing to be able to change it. It must be the biggest frustration in life that you will ever encounter - someone you love suffering with something, be it a condition or illness, and no matter what you do to help, aid, alleviate you know that you can't change it or stop it.
Maybe that explains my overwhelming need to keep in control of all other aspects of my life and my complete annoyance when I feel that is not the case. My developing attitude that you must absolutely do what you want to do, if it is something that you have any control over being able to achieve. Some people call that positive thinking. I call it trying to make up for what I can't change or control. A defiance that fate won't fox me into thinking I 'can't' control what happens.
Can someone that has never walked a single step dream what it is like to do so? I like to think so - after all I dream of flying and I certainly can't do that.
So, run little boy. Run and laugh.