28 - Identity

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I remember it being that time in the winter. It’s dark when you wake up, and the sun sets before you commute home from your day studying at university. It was after class and already dark outside. I was standing amongst a group of students continuing a discussion from the lecture we just had.

No matter how long I had been going to that school, I still looked around in awe at the surrounding building. The Faculty of Business was in the most beautiful building on campus — historic yet modern. Almost like a brighter more contemporary Hogwarts from the Harry Potter books. The walls, floors and staircases were made of brick, marble and illustrious wood. Three sides of the building were made of these materials, while the fourth side was a long façade of crystal clear windows. Normally they looked out onto a green courtyard, however as it was already past sunset, the stars were visible on a cloudless winter night.

There were about six of us continuing to delve deeper into the content of the previous lecture, alongside our professor. I may have been the only woman in this group, however all of us matched in energy, interest, and engagement in the conversation. Not to mention the sleek black blazers each of us was wearing.

“I heard they already finished making all of the desserts for tonight,” the student to my left said, breaking away from the heated debate on marketing that was happening between two other students and the professor.

“Oh yeah?” I said, “I love me some desserts! I’m going to go check it out.”

I made my way to the marble staircase. This was a very distinct feature in this building. It opened up to the main floor where people were busy getting ready for a gala dinner that was being held there that night. The kitchen was found one floor below, in the basement. I made my way down the five flights of stairs and found myself walking into the kitchen. Even though the kitchen was in the basement, it was still beautifully constructed with the same brick walls and marble floors. It was also surprisingly bright, lit just as well as the upstairs even though this part of the building lacked those crystalline windows.

Some of the cooks and pastry chefs were milling about and didn’t seem to mind me walking up to the three tables that displayed all of the desserts. Not only did these appear delicious, but all of the desserts were mini works of art. Mousses whipped into shapes I had never seen before. Modelling chocolate and fondant were used to create delicate yet elaborate decorations on top of cups of custards. Golden tiered trays displayed mini cakes and tortes.

I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t lying when I said I love me some dessert! So I started sampling everything that caught my eye... which was pretty much everything.

“Hey!” A voice said behind me. I looked up startled thinking I was about to get in trouble for my sampling. However, it was my fellow student, the one who told me about the desserts being ready.

“We’re about to go and your coat and stuff is still upstairs,” he said.

“Awww… But I haven’t finished tasting all the desserts yet,” I said with a smile and a laugh.

I followed him back to the marble staircase. As I continued up the flights of stairs, the distance between this other student and I grew. I was falling behind. My heart felt like it was pounding heavier, and at a rate higher than usual. The steps seemed to get wider and the effort increasingly harder.

“Oh,” I thought, “I should probably slow down. This is starting to hurt my brain.”

But I kept going. When I finally made it up the five flights of stairs to where I had started, most of that group of students had already left, with only the two who were finishing up their debate about marketing.

As the debate came to an end, we put on our coats, and one of the debating students turned to me and asked “are you coming to the gala dinner tonight?”

“No,” I replied. “It will be too many people, too much noise, and too much brain energy for me. I can’t go.”

As I walked out the building, I poked my head into the hall where the gala dinner was going to be held. Tables with bright white linen were being set with candle and flower centrepieces. Other tables made of wood with intricate carvings were being positioned, while more golden food trays started to make their way from the kitchen to the hall. A small band had set up and the musicians were starting to tune their instruments. All of the movement, all of the commotion, all of the different sights, smells, and sounds were all so… alluring.

“Maybe I could just stay for a little bit?” I thought to myself. But those same sights, smells and sounds were already starting to trigger my symptoms. I knew in that moment that even fifteen more minutes in that space would debilitate me.

When I finally turned to walk away from the joyful and elegant celebration I had to miss out on, I realized that up until this moment in the day, I was completely normal. Up until this moment, I completely fit in with everyone else. It wasn’t until this moment that I truly felt limited by my brain injury — that I truly felt different.

And it was at this moment that I finally woke up from this dream.

Last year, when I got back from Christmas holidays, visiting family and friends back home, my brain wasn’t doing too good. I had a bit of a setback. My fatigue was much worse, I had more headaches, I had some dizziness, and I couldn’t focus during long conversations. I had also been sleeping far more than usual — about 12 hours a night. And during those nights, I had some of the most vivid dreams I had all year. The story I just shared with you is an example of one of those dreams.

What strikes me about this dream is not how vividly I remember the details. The building I described is not one I’ve ever seen, though elements of it may have come from different places I’ve visited. Still, even now, a year later, it’s impressive how I can clearly picture that imagined marble staircase. I can even still feel the wood of its railing, smooth under my hand.

What strikes me most about this dream is also not the location at a university’s Faculty of Business. In fact, business and commerce was something I had almost zero interest in when I studied at university. So why would my dream take place there?

What strikes me most about this dream is also not that I was dressed so professional. The blazer I dreamt of is one I do in fact own, though it’s a garment that has only left my closet for headshots… My current daily style could otherwise be described as “rolled out of bed and used a hairbrush.”

No, instead what strikes me most about this dream is that this is the first dream I can remember where in it I had a concussion. And not only in this dream did I have PCS, but I was limited by it, and felt sorrow for it in my dream. This to me says something important.

I’m not the kind of person who interprets dreams. I have no idea what any dream guide or even Freud would make of these details (and to some extent, I’m sure I don’t want to know, lol). But having PCS be a turning point in my dream indicates to me how much this injury has become a part of my identity.

It’s well-known that when people develop a chronic illness, they can feel like the illness has changed their identity. It changes how you live your life. It changes how other people see you. It changes what you are capable of doing. It may even change what you value and your perspective on life. This isn’t always a bad thing. In fact there’s a lot of good and growth that can come from it. But it is definitely not easy nor comfortable.

I can accept that my identity has changed as a result of my concussions. But I can also recognize that I’m not a completely different person. In the dream I shared above, I can still see other elements of my identity, concussion or no concussion:

I’ve always enjoyed a good group discussion.

I’m someone who is passionate about projects and learning.

In university, even though I didn’t take business, I was often found with other students in the hallways talking to our professors.

I really do love desserts and I have a hard time not trying them all, LOL.

I love a lot of sunlight through big windows.

I really do enjoy old-fashioned architecture.

I’ve always fit in with the guys.

And I look pretty darn good in that blazer :-)

As the title of this blog implies, my PCS is just one hat that I wear. It is an important hat. It is one that I can rock just as a good as that blazer. It is a hat that I accept and truly own.

Even in dreams.

Best in brain health for all,

Krystal