A Dream of Foreboding
By Barbara Creswell
June is Alzheimer’s & Brain Awareness Month, dedicated to encouraging a global conversation about the brain and Alzheimer’s and other dementia. In the following story, guest writer Barbara Creswell explores her unease about her husband being recently diagnosed with mild cognitive decline. Alzheimer’s runs in his family.
The car jostles on the dusty gravel road. I am in the back seat. I covertly glance at the man sitting next to me. He exudes an air of importance, and I feel uneasy in his company. For a reason I cannot fathom we are driving him to his next destination. He sits with his head bowed, concentrating on his hands. He is using a stylus to etch into his metal traveling mug. I see fir trees and a loon emerging with each stroke. He is talented. The design reminds me of a cabin we used to own in Northern Minnesota, but I don’t dare speak. I pretend not to see.
Nothing breaks the visual monotony outside the window. We are traveling through an arid landscape broken only by glimpses of buttes and gorges. Four of us have been on this road for a while. Too long. Are we on the right road? Can’t we turn around? I tap the driver, my husband Cliff, on the top of his head. No response. I tap harder.
“He’s sleeping!” the front seat passenger exclaims with surprise.
Oh no, not again. “Wake up!” I yell. I glance ahead. Oh my God! The road ahead looks washed out, and a chasm looms. There are no warning signs and no space to divert. “Stop!” I shout. We can’t careen over that cliff. I panic. Cliff’s reaction is too slow. We’re going too fast. The car slows but still creeps towards the precipice, as if the brakes are giving out. “Brake harder!” I yell.
Heart racing, I wake in a sweat. Whew. It was just a dream. Or was it?
My husband had just been diagnosed with mild cognitive decline.