Read time 5 minutes
Gratitude is my morning mantra. Every heartbeat, every step forward in recovery, is a blessing I don’t take for granted. So, dear Universe, thank you. You continue to gift me health and the strength to persevere.
As I edge closer to my birthday month, I wanted to break away from my usual serious musings and share something deeply personal.
An astonishing dream that held me captive one winter night. It wasn’t just a dream. It was an awakening, a message.
A supernatural encounter that mirrored my day-to-day life and revealed truths I hadn’t yet articulated aloud.
Living With Isaacs’ Syndrome and Other Rare Companions
For those familiar with my story, you’ll recall that I live with Isaacs’ Syndrome. It is a rare neuromuscular condition rooted in continuous muscle fiber activity. This rare disorder doesn’t walk alone. As my journey unfolded, I discovered:
- Lyme disease: A bacterial infection transmitted via tick bites.
- Glaucoma: A chronic condition impacting the optic nerves.
- Membranous Glomerulonephritis: A progressive kidney disease.
- Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), Diabetes, Frozen Shoulder, Eczema and Blood Pressure issues.
These diagnoses have woven themselves into the fabric of my existence. They were fluctuating, clashing, and sometimes coexisting without warning.
Living with many chronic conditions means adapting daily. It was about observing the shifting patterns of wellness and discomfort and holding space for each flare-up with courage.
When Sleep Turned into a Nightmare
Sleep is supposed to be restorative, a pause from the chaos. But for me, winter nights are often brutal. Cold weather tends to aggravate neurological disorders, and this particular night was no exception.
The damp chill in the air had numbed my senses. As I slipped into unconsciousness, I was pulled into a haunting dream. It began with an unfamiliar but deeply ominous voice calling out to me. The surroundings in my dream were surreal: a leafless, tangled tree; vultures circling above; a ghost-town neighborhood; and a frightened dog watching silently.
It felt like I’d crossed into a realm of forgotten souls, carrying the scent of something final. My body froze. My thoughts collided in chaotic turbulence.
And then, from the darkness, a shadow crawled forward and uttered the words I never expected:
“The way you feel in body and mind is the consequence of my presence. I am your Rare Disease.”
Face to Face with My Fear
The aura of time and space mocked holy spirits with an eye-to-eye sense of paranormal enthusiasm.
It was terrifying. It was surreal. And it was deeply symbolic. The disease that’s changed my life had taken shape of a sentient being confronting me, almost mocking my healing journey.
His voice was calm, his energy heavy, and his grip, chilling. He had been lurking in my subconscious for years, weakening my organs, disrupting my sleep, challenging my will. And now, he’d arrived in full form.
The situation was quite claustrophobic and lonely, with two eyes staring at all my moves.
But something shifted within me. Instead of recoiling in fear, I felt a surge of rebellion, even curiosity. So, oddly enough, I offered him a cup of coffee.
Yes—coffee.
Not because I expected warmth from him, but because maybe a little caffeine could jolt my inner defenses into action. Or maybe I just wanted to share a moment of humanity with the thing that had stolen so much of mine.
Asking the Questions That Needed Answers
I became like a child filled with questions:
- Are you some extraterrestrial being sent to test me?
- Do you plan to stay with me forever?
- What message am I missing?
- Is there a way we can coexist—peacefully?
“Enough,” he said. “Hold your curiosity and listen.”
What followed was a revelation.
He spoke of how disease, his kind, wasn’t just a medical anomaly but a result of human disconnection. He explained that ‘Wellness’ and ‘Disease’ are twins, born of the same origin. One nourishes. The other depletes. But both are reactions to the choices we make.
He described how humanity has drifted away from nature. They are eating poorly, avoiding movement, succumbing to addictions, and living with chronic stress.
The Elephant Called Mr. Ignorant
He then referenced a story I’d seen earlier online, a tale of an elephant, strong and majestic, tied down by a mere rope. His name: Mr. Ignorant.
Despite having the physical power to break free, Mr. Ignorant stayed tethered. Why?
“Because he believed he couldn’t escape.”
It struck me like lightning.
So much of our pain stems not from the weight itself, but from the belief that we’re incapable of lifting it. I had been conditioned to accept limitations as truths.
“Don’t get entangled in the world dictated by circumstance,” he said. “Believe that you can and half the battle is already won.”
Those words cracked open something inside me. For the first time, I felt empathy not just for myself, but for my disease. It had shown up not to torment, but to teach.
The Dream Ends, But the Transformation Begins
Just as I was about to respond, my alarm clock rang. The dream dissolved, but its imprint stayed.
There’s a lot to ponder upon from the sensations and messages he left behind. The episode hounded me for days and still gives me goosebumps and butterflies. Since that night, something in me shifted. I began practicing radical self-compassion. I stopped catastrophizing every symptom and started listening deeply to my body’s cues. I learned to pause, breathe, observe.
The street I walk is still filled with trials, but now I carry hope beside me.
A Message to Fellow Warriors
If you’re living with chronic illness—whether it’s rare, invisible, or misunderstood—know this: Your story matters. Your pain is real. And within you lies a reservoir of strength that even your toughest days can’t take away.
I found mine through a dream. You may find yours through art, movement, meditation, or community. But it’s there. I promise.
Quoting George Bernard Shaw
As the Irish playwright once said: “You see things; and you say, ‘Why?’ But I dream things that never were, and I say, ‘Why not?’”
I’ve stopped asking “Why me?” and begun asking “What now?” Because forward is the only way.
Final Thoughts and Invitation
Have you ever had a dream so powerful it changed the course of your healing? Have you ever faced your fear—and offered it coffee?
Share your story. Your battle might be the light someone else needs.
DISCLAIMER
The views expressed in this blog are personal reflections. They do not constitute medical advice or professional guidance. Always consult your healthcare provider for treatment and diagnosis.