I’ve shared this story with but a few people, and in a moment of bravery published it in a now defunct digital magazine a few years back. The story stays tucked away in my heart most days. That is, until the ache appears.

It most always comes upon awakening. The ache. The chest caving in, find it hard to breathe ache found in the ligaments of life between the “I must do something” and the “I’m helpless to do anything.” It’s such a familiar pain now. I used to fight against it but I am learning to press into it more—as if by pressing, something new will be seen that wasn’t there before.

The ache is always sparked by a dream. I remember the days when dreams would replay the day or be frivolous and fun and full of carnival colors. Those days ended long ago. Now,…