The Time I Faced A Bengal TigerMonday, April 20, 2015
To some people dreams are just the electricity running through our brains as we sleep and mean absolutely nothing. Some believe it's just a combination of something spicy you ate, and eating too close to bedtime, or they're induced by the medicine you're taking. To others they provide guidance and insight into life. Some believe they provide visions, or visitations from people who've crossed over into the after life. For me, I believe they can be any of those.
At this time of life, my mother had entered hospice care. The brain tumor had grown too far, and it was clear she was losing her battle. It was only a matter of weeks at this point. I was mourning her impending end of life, and was terrified to go through the grief I knew I'd have to soon. Grief doesn't just make me sad, it tears me apart. It wrecks my health, it wrecks my ability to function normally. I lose my ability to care about relationships, and activities I once loved, and I sink into depression.
We kept yelling for you, screaming in fact, but you were standing there, one hand on the tower, leaning slightly for support, frozen. You were staring down the tiger as she approached closer and closer. It seemed like you were scared to death, but determined to not flinch. You came face to face with the tiger, her emitting a low, throaty growl and you, tears sliding down, staring her down, almost trying to communicate empathically.