For most of my life I had vivid active dreams, rich in detail and bursting with creativity. I loved my dreams; in many instances, they were more exciting than my waking hours, often taking me on fantastical adventures that seemed to transcend reality. When I woke up, I could remember my dreams clearly, recapping them in my mind and eager to share them with anyone who wanted to listen. These moments became cherished rituals, where I would recount my nocturnal escapades to friends and family, captivating them with the intricate plots and the colorful characters I encountered. Each dream felt like a new episode in an ongoing saga, and these were very enjoyable times for me, reliving my dreams and savoring the whimsical experiences that slipped away with the dawn.

In 2018, the eleven-millimeter kidney stone that has grown throughout my life decided that it was time to try to relocate down to my bladder, causing significant anxiety. Obviously, a stone of that size could not navigate down that small diameter tube without creating complications. After several days of discomfort, I was rushed to the hospital, where the doctors explained the procedure. They put me under anesthesia and went up through the basement with their laser to break up the stone, a process that felt surreal yet hopeful. I was relieved of the pain as the stone was efficiently shattered into grains of sand, marking a significant turning point in my medical journey. However, I experienced an unexpected side effect: I passed what resembled chocolate milk for eight long hours, which was both surprising and unsettling. Despite the ordeal, I survived with a newfound appreciation for my body’s resilience, and the enlarged kidney eventually reduced to normal size, leaving me without any long-term effects. This experience not only altered my perspective on health but also deepened my understanding of the body’s incredible ability to heal.

Unfortunately, since I was put under anesthesia, “the bridge is gone.” I have lost the ability to remember my dreams once I wake up. When I am asleep, I still dream as usual and enjoy the dreams while sleeping; they are vibrant, full of life, and often weave intricate stories that feel profoundly real. However, upon waking, it’s as if the dream world has evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace behind. I then wake up and all is gone, leaving me with a sense of emptiness and frustration. I can’t even remember what the dream was about, which feels like a cruel twist of fate. Those fleeting moments of exploration and insight have become a distant memory. I miss my dreams dearly and the ability to enjoy and recap my dreams in my conscious life, as they used to offer me profound insights into my thoughts and emotions. Now I feel like I am just a mere mortal, detached from that rich tapestry of imagination and creativity, and no longer that special gift I had for a large part of my life, which made me feel unique and connected to a deeper realm of existence. Each passing day amplifies that sense of loss, as if a vital part of my essence has been stripped away, leaving a hollow echo where dreams once lived.