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The Dream Below is an article I
wrote a year after "Queen Crystal and The Land" was published.
The origin of
the dream which sparked the story's creation had been a mystery. I remembered details: colors, the
storyline, characters, and emotions.
But, why I had the dream was unknown until
recently. The story of Chance
reveals how a warning by a veterinarian had been the catalyst
for my dream. There are too many clues to deny that
my subconscious attempted to prepare me for a decision I would have
to make, thus creating the fascinating dream about a young girl battling
with her father. A friend asked my
brother why I was so emotional at the end of my website video, the one
that explained my dream. At the time I could not explain why the
plight of my character upset me.
Nor could I explain why this particular tale needed to be told, or
why I had been so compelled to share this one story when others had
already been written.
I hope this realization will not taint your image
of
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Spirit of Chance
How often are we compelled by our own suffering yet utterly oblivious to the reason behind our obsessions? I am sure there are plenty of untold tales hiding among battered lives and hopefully this story will spark a dialog between people who wish to share. It began with a dream that I recorded years ago for the sole purpose of creating a captivating young adult novel, a third book in my ever-growing list of fiction. At the same time, in our conscious world, I was a teacher experiencing a problem that started with a puppy named, “Chance.” Chance was a white husky and not your typical family pooch. How our dog came into our possession was by chance, hence her name.
Calvin was an all black cat, the coolest feline I had ever met, but
he pasted away, so my husband and I decided to offer our home to a
canine. We visited an animal
shelter in Time passed and I figured that we would eventually move into a house, so perhaps a big dog would be do-able. One day a student told me her Siberian husky had puppies and before I was married I considered buying a husky pup from a co-worker. I was still in college at the time and knew a puppy would be too much to handle, but this time we were ready. When I visited my student’s house I met the mother husky and her puppies. The father was in a separate cage, weighing about 60 lbs with mixed colors and blue & brown eyes. Both the mother and father were happy, affectionate dogs. Out of the available puppies I decided on the runt. She resembled a polar bear cub with white and brown markings. A week or more after the visit I was with my Chorus class and received a call from the front office. My student was on the other line hysterically crying and in my attempt to calm her, the picture became clear. There had been an accident and the puppies were in a cage next to another dog. The dog grabbed a puppy through the cage, killing it. The unfortunate victim happened to be my runt. I was not terribly upset since I had not become attached, but for my student sobbing over the phone the experience was devastating. She said she would try to see if another person who had taken two pups would give one up for me. I might have told her not to worry, that I would find another dog, but I knew that to make my student feel better about what had happened I should accept her gesture, so I did. That day on the drive home from school I thought about how we would be getting a puppy that we had not decided upon or even looked at. It would be a chance taking her. Despite our attempts at finding a different dog, we were meant to share our lives with “Chance.” Now that Chance had become a part of our lives the story begins. From early on I discovered my new dog was an all white, fearless female who enjoyed ripping apart dry leaves. When we had our first vet visit she joined her brothers and sisters for shots and decided to bite the vet. Time passed and Chance grew and grew. A neighbor at our apartment joked that we were feeding Chance miracle grow. Most people mistook her for being a white shepherd, although her eyes were like her fathers. When Chance ate her food she enjoyed tipping her bowl, allowing the pieces to scatter. She would guard the pieces ferociously until I could get her into her cage and sweep them up. I eventually held the bowl for her (with gloves on), so she would eat her meal and not turn the event into a game of possession. Chance was so beautiful that people were drawn to her. They wanted to pet her and children wanted to touch her fur. No one was afraid of Chance except the people who worked with animals. During a vet visit I remember a strange reaction from the vet’s assistant. It is difficult to remember the details, but most likely the assistant took Chance into the back room to check her weight. When he returned to the examination room he stood at the farthest corner, his back pressed against the wall, and he slid a treat to her. That’s odd, I thought. The veterinarian came into the office and that’s when we got the news about the spirit of Chance. He explained her dominate aggression and how in smaller animals it can be controlled. Chance had already passed her Mother’s weight and would be on her way to passing her Father’s as well. I was told to tackle her down to gain control of the situation, to show her who was dominant, otherwise Chance would be in control. She also had a real problem with men and I wondered what she had done to the vet’s assistant. We finally found a house close to where I worked and it was about time since Chance was approaching 85lbs. She had a backyard to roam and I still fed her by holding the bowl, but nothing could stop her controlling ways. When she attempted to attack someone, usual a family member, I would stop her by getting her on her back and letting her know I was in charge. She would eventually relax and I would put her in her cage to cool down. In most of the tackles I was hurt in the process, but I eventually expected to get bit. Chance’s cage was her safe haven. Once she overcame her urge to dominate she gave in and eventually fell asleep. I, on the other hand, was often shaken and wondered how many years she had taken off my life. You might be thinking she reacted with such aggression because I did not do enough with her, that assumption would be wrong. I walked Chance almost every day and when I walked her it became a real problem. During the daylight people would see her and want to pet her, and my attempt to warn them about her character wouldn’t always work. One evening a former student saw me walking Chance and before I knew it the girl wrapped her arms around her head, hugging Chance. My stomach dropped and I prayed that nothing would happen. Fortunately, the event passed without incident, but I knew I had to take precautions. I began my morning with Chance at 5:30am walking her with a nylon muzzle just in case. She spent hours in the backyard before I left for work, so things had become routine trying to keep Chance happy and the world safe. I eventually took Chance to obedience classes to help with her problem, but it did not curb her need to dominate. We were supposed to reward our dog by petting and praising him or her. That was not what Chance wanted. If you pet her you’d most likely be bit. Let me enlighten you about her behavior then perhaps you can understand our dilemma. She was unlike any other dog I had known. She was genuinely happy to see a new person – she would wag her tail and come up to you. Then, as soon as you accepted her gesture and petted her, she turned. I saw this time and again. Her ears would go back as you were petting her, her teeth would show instantly (most people did not notice while petting her), and she would strike faster than a cobra. Most of the time her bite was short, although at times I had to tackle her down to stop a prolonged attack.
Chance had been very obedient, especially after the classes we
took. Still, her personality
would not change. I
discovered much about the way she thought. During our walks, if a big dog
approached us she was ready to attack the animal, but a small dog was
never a threat. A little
So, how about getting hurt. How could such a big dog get hurt? Well, I will start with the two grapefruit trees I had planted in the backyard. If anyone has picked a grapefruit you would have discovered long thorns on the tree. One particular tree, about five feet tall, had been ripped to pieces by Chance. The entire tree was gone and my guess was that while chewing one of the leaves a thorn poked her mouth. I hoped the tree would eventually grow back, but after another hour I looked outside. Chance had dug into the dirt and tore up the roots. Once, while playing in the patio with my husband, she fell and hit the concrete. I heard a yelp which we hardly ever heard, so I ran into the patio. We stood on either side of her and stopped short of touching her. I wanted to help, but I knew she was angry. Chance grabbed the closest thing to her which happened to be my hand, and she shook it like it was a rag doll. I didn’t do anything except leave the room after she let go and attempted to fix my badly damaged hand. She did not attack me and was merely angry. My hand just happened to be too close to her face. If I had gone to the doctor I knew Chance would have been under quarantine. We had been very careful to keep Chance from seriously hurting anyone because we knew she would have been destroyed long ago. I felt sad that I was just able to make her comfortable, but her spirit was that of the alpha female. She would have been either dead or the head of the pack. Chance was never meant to be with humans, she was too unpredictable. She was smart, testing people and their response to her, and she never surrendered unless I intervened. Not once in all her life did her tail go between her legs. Often times the people who loved dogs were the biggest problem. They had an expectation as to how a dog should act, but Chance was not typical. She was not truly a domesticated animal, rather an obedient, wild creature. I bet bears and tigers could have been more domesticated than Chance, but no one understood this save for a few close friends and family. It was the people who had been bit that knew how different she was. When my husband’s friend came to visit we warned him about Chance. He was with his girlfriend and she ignored Chance. I was pleased with her behavior since there was no contact. Then there was our friend who obviously liked dogs and wanted to play with her. I tried to warn him that Chance was not to be trusted and I observed Chance for a few days, watching her manipulation with his feelings. Chance knew this man was interested in her and she was very calculating, coming up to him and offering her affection. Still, that was her way of challenging him, a way of drawing him into a situation were she could take control. What was interesting was that Chance had not attempted to entice the girlfriend with friendly behavior. She knew it was the man that would fall for her scheme and she would draw him into petting her. I saw it and I knew what would happen. A day before they were to leave Chance won again and tore into our friend as he was rubbing her head with both his hands. I had to tackle her down to stop her from doing any more damage and my hand was bit in the process. The poor man was shaking as much as I was while washing off our wounds. Days later we received a note telling us that Chance must be quarantined for 10 days since our friend had gone to the doctor. Time passed and Chance was the same. We were playing a game that would eventually have to end. Chance wanted to win, she wanted to be in control and the only thing keeping her alive was the fact that her cage was her safe haven. I could always put Chance in her cage to calm her, and she was willing to go in. As long as she went into her cage when needed, she would be safe. But, what if she decided not to go in? We wanted another dog, but knew Chance would probably kill any other animal we brought into the house. Then there were concerns about people getting seriously hurt by her, especially my students living in the neighborhood. We could not take Chance to the pound to be given away, not with her problems. Someone would get hurt or even killed and it would be our fault for handing Chance over to someone else. I hoped she would not win her game, but eventually she began trying to attack me once she went into her cage. She would walk in then turn around and lunge for me without reason. There would be a day when Chance would attack me from outside the cage, before going in, and she would have won. There was no reason for her progressing rage. It was just a part of her that could not be tamed. She was happy to be in charge, to have control of the world and I was the only thing keeping her from ultimate control. I knew she loved me the same as I loved her. I could touch her without being a threat and I still feed her by holding her bowl. I brushed her, sat outside with her, and walked with her everyday. Still, she was not free. She was determined to be in charge and her spirit was not meant for human society. If it was not for me she would have been put down long ago, that much I was sure. So, I had to make a decision, the toughest one of my life. Other people would look at Chance and think, How can you put such a beautiful dog to sleep? Well, it’s not easy. No one understood Chance’s spirit better than me or my husband. We also understood that a good dog owner should do what is safe for family, friends, and neighbors. Too many children have been hurt by pet owners with little empathy for others. So, I made the decision and took her in. Besides my nylon mussel the vet placed their bigger, leather mussel over her. My vet was a woman and she understood Chance quite well. The vet assistants’ told me that not all dogs were like Chance. I was not sure what they thought about me for putting down a healthy dog, but I imagine they were worried I would give up on all dogs. My last conscious memory of Chance was her being held by the vet, the mussels protecting us from her rage, and we heard her growl linger to the end. It was typical Chance, determined to the last. She was finally free and would never be controlled by anyone, including me. But, that was not the last time I saw her.
I was visited by her in my dream a few months later. My husband and I had been hiking
in the
After my time with Chance I focused on the exceptional dream I had
years prior and began writing the magical story. The story captivated me as I
followed a young woman named
I never realized that my emotion and drive for sharing my story was
based on my own suffering.
After the book was released and I had moved away from I wanted to write a story about Chance, she deserved that much, but I was not keen on revisiting my pain. Now I realize I had already written her story, masked by my own imagination. Hopefully people will take great care in listening to their subconscious, silent self. It understands more than we care to admit and each of us has our own way of healing during times of suffering. I wanted to share this with others who are compelled by some unknown force and together we can solve the riddle of our suffering.
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