Update May 11, 2005

Have you ever had a dream that seemed so real that when you woke up you let
out a sigh of relief or maybe even disappointment realizing it was only a dream? 
The dream  I had was neither of those because my dream turned into the story of my
life.   
        One day I was fighting with my high school, in Mississippi, convincing them to let
guys be on the cheer squad; the next thing I knew I was in a  jail cell  (hospital
bed) and couldn t even move.  I was told I had been in a severe car accident that
resulted in a traumatic brain injury (TBI).  (For those of you who don t know, this
really messes with your memory).  I wasn t able to talk, walk, eat, or even
remember who this lady was that claimed to be my mother.    
        The place I was in was a strange place, but it  was full of people I knew except,
they were from all sorts of different places and times throughout my life.   My
step-mom and Dad were there and they are from Colorado.  My sister and her family
were there too, and they live in Texas.  To top it off, my old gymnastics coach who
had moved to Jackson (a town 200 miles away) was there!  People were there from my
high school, but they were the only people in this  dream  that should ve been
there; I was in high school.  It turned out that they were all there to see me.
Why, what did I do that was so great?  I was filled with anticipation.  This was
definitely a dream, but how would it end??   This place wasn t my house or a place
I d ever been or even seen before. 
           Soon I realized I couldn t move, and there were strange people who came in to
move my limbs for me.  I was given several tests, daily, to see if my cognition
had improved.  I was asked things like,  If you look out the window, is it night
or daytime?   I was asked what was the  year, who was the president. and was
asked to do simple things like tie my own shoe, and to my surprise, I couldn t
do it!  I was scared, I wanted my mommy!!  I was going to get to the bottom of
this.  I had to find out if this woman who called herself my mom really, indeed,
was her.  To figure this out, I had to be mean.  I knew I could do anything to
her; if she was really my mom, she could take anything.  My mom was superwoman. 
In the process of determining if she was my mom, I dislocated a finger or two of
hers and bit her hard enough to draw blood.  I went on by interrogating her
about everything.  I told my so called  mom  that I didn t like this game and
didn t want to play it anymore.  I was told several times that I had been in a
severe car accident, but couldn t grasp the idea of being hurt.  In disbelief, I
asked who, if anyone, was with me.  I was told a girl s name that I hadn t ever
heard of, so I knew, that it was everybody else that was crazy.  It wasn t until
a while after I got home that my mom convinced me that she was my real mom, and
it still wasn t until I had friends visit me, who could tell me about my past
(which I thought was present), that I realized I had really been in a car
accident.   
        Through the beginning stages of the healing process, people at Church would shake
my hand and I would, nonchalantly, bite or flip them off.  At home when people
would come to visit, I would show off and I mean that literally, my aunt would say,
 Kimi, your as naked as a jaybird.  I didn t care because I had delusions of my
Savior coming, and He wouldn t take me unless I went to my tomb just like I came
out of my mothers  womb; in my birthday suit.        
        Even to this day I can t remember the two years before the wreck, but I think that
is my bodies way of protecting me from the trauma.  When reminded about certain
events and the people that were around, the memories vaguely resurface, and  I
still sporadically regain crazy memories.  This whole healing process is much like
growing up, all over again, anticipating what each day will bring, but I m just
like everybody else in the sense that I m learning too.  I am just learning
everything all over again.  So a dream isn t always a dream, when it seems as real
as life, it could be.