Some research claims that the only reason humans don’t get confused between nighttime dreams and daytime reality is because once we’re awake, our brain is programmed to erase what we experience in sleep. Sometimes, during the best of dreams, I am aware in my sleep (if that’s possible) that I must try hard to remember my dream, not necessarily to bring it into daytime reality, but simply because the experience is so precious.
Within minutes after waking, the details begin to erode. Why were we waiting at a ferry dock? Why did I know this person’s entire life story even though we’d just met?
Last night it rained and I slept well. My mind was not occupied with failing students, unsold books or the daily frustrations of doing anything in Laos. Instead, I was told in the dream that I should stop for a day at a certain beach. It started with an “S” and was halfway between Savannakhet and Bangkok.
That map doesn’t quite coincide with present geography. My impeding trip to Bangkok had been smoothed to a convenient arc along a quiet coastline. What is usually a dreary trip was now full of sea breeze.
There is closure in Savannakhet. The students have proved to me that it’s possible to learn. Once young people find their own feet, they are eager to run. They run, but they remember who helped them. Years ago, students in Thailand saw me off at the train. School was finished and our classroom days were over. One student said, “Thank you for helping us to grow up.”
I’m looking at that smooth arc to Bangkok because from Bangkok I go to Seoul and to Seattle. I am going home to be with my father. I hope he won’t mind if I just sit by his side. Parents are the true teachers. We can only thank them by teaching the good lessons we’ve been taught. And then, one day, we have to say goodbye.
