I Had Another Dream About My Non-Verbal Son. This Time, He Wasn’t Speaking.

It’s been a while since I had a jarring dream about my nonverbal son.

Back in the day, I can recall dreaming about Lucas speaking. Still little, I could hear him asking for “movie snacks” at a gathering of friends. When I pointed out that he was talking, someone said:

“Yes. He’s been talking this whole time.”

It affected me. The feeling I got in the pit of my stomach and the depths of my tear ducts is still there today. Writing those words and remembering the scene takes me back to those years gone by.

Today, I don’t worry about speech as much. Sure, I still work on it with him, but it’s not weighing heavily anymore. Words may come. Words might not. Either way, between gestures and his communication device, Lucas has been talking this whole time.

So, nothing else to dream about…right?

That’s what I thought until Saturday morning.

As is usually the case, my 15-year-old boy was up at 4 AM and running his hands along the gate on his door like a 1920s prison movie. He wanted his iPad.

I insisted he return to bed, which he did for a few minutes, but then he was up again. Figuring it was the weekend, I gave him his device. He gave me a kiss. It gave me peace. I returned to bed.

There was some phone scrolling and daydreaming. But before long, I was asleep again.

And that’s when it happened. I dreamed about Lucas.

Was he talking?

No.

This wasn’t about that. As I mentioned earlier, it isn’t weighing heavily on my mind, I guess.

Nothing really weighs heavily on my mind anymore, to be honest. Stresses and concerns lay dormant in the background. They manifest themselves through lower back pain, exhaustion and, in this case, dreams. It’s a side effect of serenity.

All of the details I am about to tell you are true, doc. As is the case with most poignant dreams, I retained every detail.

As has been a dominant subject with my incoming-freshman daughter this year, college was the overall theme. I was in a hotel, but I knew it was for a college tour of some sort.

I was standing in the corner of a hallway, hotel rooms to the left and right of me. I was waiting for something. I wasn’t sure what.

Suddenly, a crowd started to appear around me and a young man, who looked like he was in charge, spoke to me.

“Are you here for the South Asian Studies tour?”

I have no idea where this part of the dream came from. Maybe it’s symbolic of something or because I had eaten a Poke Bowl the night before, but I don’t know. I just know that I spoke to him in the dream with the same confused indignation that I would in real life.

Uh…no.

Before the tour guide could respond, Lucas walked up to me.

He was exactly as he is in real life, except that he was an inch or two taller than me. That, however, wasn’t the big thing.

Lucas was fully dressed in his Easter outfit. A plaid button-down shirt and tan khaki pants. I didn’t know where he came from, but I knew I hadn’t helped to dress him, as is the case often the case real life.

It was almost perfect, but not quite. He was well-put together, but his pants were slightly undone and his shirttail was hanging out.

I was stunned, even in this fantasy imagination hotel.

Lucas, look at you. Wow, buddy. Good job. You did this yourself. Let’s just go get you totally ready.

With that, he led me down the hallway to his room…which he had been staying in solo.

I knew this was out of character, even in the dream, but it wasn’t shocking. It was more like, “Oh, wow. He has his own room. That’s unique.”

As we got there, I gripped the doorknob and went to pull it open. The door was locked, so I told him we had to use the key.

In my mind, the place to scan the key was above the knob. Lucas, however, took the key and put it into a slot at the other end of the door. In the dream, it looked like an empty hole in the wood. I couldn’t stop him in time.

He just did it, as if he knew what to do, and I was convinced it was wrong. In my mind, he had just tossed his key away and now we were stuck in the hall. I rolled my eyes at his mistake.

But then the door opened.

As we walked in, I saw a crumpled-up furry jacket or something on the bed. I thought it was a dog. I even said, “Yo, is that a dog?”

That’s when I woke up.

The dog, like the South Asian Studies, didn’t really play a role in the overall story. It just felt important to include in case you’re taking notes.

So yeah. Here we are. The aftermath of a dream where my boy is doing more than I expected. That old gag.

Unlike the talking dream from nearly a decade ago, this one didn’t take long to decipher. It didn’t rock my world for a week or two.

Rather, I got it. I got it right away.

It made something clear to me. I do worry about my boy. Sure, I don’t obsess about it or shout to the heavens. I love Lucas, and everything he can or can’t do comes with that. The worry I have for him isn’t dominant in my life, but it exists.

It exists because I love him.

My main goal, since he was old enough to show his struggles, has been to get him as self-sufficient as possible for when I’m no longer able to do all the things I do for him.

It’s my mission in life. More than working. More than writing. More than breathing.

I forget that sometimes.

The weight of the world, while not on my mind, is often on my shoulders. I handle it every day in the same way I handle living. It’s such a big issue in my life, and I’m so close to it, that it’s become invisible.

But it’s still there. This dream reminded me of it.

That was the point.

He’s making progress. Life moves on and, even though his independent living and life skills don’t match the dream I had, I can honestly add the most important word to that sentence.

Yet.

One day? Maybe.

I want him to do everything, but I don’t need him to.

Maybe he can. Maybe he can’t.

Either way…

We can always dream.

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