July 28th

There are countless articles sharing advice on how to fall asleep at night. Many of them have similar suggestions.

Don’t look at your phone.
Keep the room dark and cool.
Don’t drink coffee later in the day.
Try breathing and relaxation techniques.
Stick to a consistent sleep schedule.

I’ve always fallen asleep easily. In the Army, I learned to sleep anywhere. On the tarmac with planes roaring all around me. In an airplane, wearing a parachute, while heading toward a jump. In the jungle, with fire ants walking over me as I napped against a tree.

50 years later, I still fall asleep quickly. This is likely due to my daily activities, including biking, hiking, walking, exercising, and volunteering. I also have a visioning routine that I’ve followed for decades.

When I was in my 20s, I would put a record on the turntable before jumping into bed. Once my head hit the pillow, I would imagine myself as a member of the band. Without fail, I would be asleep before the album stopped playing.

Over the past couple of years, I have been outlining and writing a book. When I go to sleep at night, I mentally walk through the storyline. I never make it through a scene before I fall asleep.

I rarely remember much about my dreams. When I wake up, my mind immediately begins to dive into the day ahead and quickly erases the adventure that my subconscious had been weaving.

Until the other day, that is. One dream has stuck with me.

About a month ago, I had a dream in which I was sitting in an office across the desk from a nondescript man. He slid a note across the table to me. I asked, “What’s this?” The man replied, “I know when you’re going to die”. I slowly open the note, expecting to see a distant date. As I unfolded the paper, I found that it read:

45 days

My eyes popped open. I thought about the dream for the briefest of moments and then began my day, but, unlike most dreams that vanish in a second, this one kept poking me.

First, I calculated. 45 days would be July 28th.

July 28th falls on a Monday. I usually go to Haleakala National Park on Mondays to volunteer as a trail steward. It’s a steep, twisty road to the summit. I sometimes hike the switchbacks at Halemau’u, where the switchbacks are narrow and the falloff steep. The summit is located at 10,000 feet, and the air becomes thinner. That can be challenging for an older guy.

If I skip Haleakala, I go to CrossFit. I ride my bike five miles to the gym and then ride back home afterwards. With the combination of tourists and impatient locals, the roads can be precarious for a bicyclist.

Tragedy and challenge often bring life and mortality into sharper focus. This has happened when loved ones passed and when I faced cancer challenges.

While it’s very likely that I’ll wake up on Tuesday, the 29th, and have a typical day, the ’45 days’ dream has impacted me over the recent weeks. I’ve found that I’m revelling in simple moments.

The sensation of the tropical sun on my skin and the ocean wind against my face. The feeling of sweat rolling down my forearms and shins after a bike ride along the shoreline. The rise and fall of my heartbeat during and after a workout. The chatter of my CrossFit classmates. The laughter of my fellow volunteers as they work together in the soup kitchen, the kaleidoscope of sunsets, and the variety of characters that stroll along the beach.

A dream reminded me that my time is finite, and that has been a good thing.