Burn Altese

I often have dreams where paralysis strikes me, always in a very specific manner. It begins with the muscles in my jaw suddenly locking, making it very painful and near impossible to open my mouth. Breathing becomes more and more difficult. On rare occasions, the tightness spreads to the rest of my body, and I end up crouched on the ground, unable to move.

I dreamt I was back at school again. The Bryan Center renovations had been completed, leaving the place nearly unrecognizable. I was with Hachi, my friend and ex-roommate from two years ago. We were chatting, when my jaw muscles began to lock. Straining to open my mouth, I had to speak through my clenched teeth to tell Hachi that something was wrong. One of our mutual friends (more Hachi's friend than mine) happened to pass by. By that point, I was crouched on the ground barely able to breathe. He ran off to find help after Hachi told him what had happened.

When he came back, he said there was nobody who could come over to help, but they told him my problem had a name. Burn Altese Syndrome. And the first thing I needed to do was to breathe. He crouched down in front of me and, with one hand on my back, began to coach my breathing.

I realized as I began to take deep breaths that I had been hyperventilating. As my breathing rate slowed, the paralysis in my legs began to dissipate. In time, I was able to stand up, and my friends walked me to the student health center.

It's not often that I awake with a dream retained with such startling clarity. Out of curiosity, I Googled lockjaw, and it appears that some of the symptoms I dream about are related to tetanus.

But not that last part about breathing. Simply taking deeper breaths does not alleviate muscle tension in tetanus.

In truth, this person had flickered across my mind not too long ago. In those moments of daydream when I think about the stories I want to tell, I thought about a blog post I had read once that said the difference between writing about a romance in YA versus adult literature is that for the teenagers, every little action is monumental. Eye contact across a hall, a hand on the shoulder, bodies pressed side by side on a crowded bus.

I never truly liked this person in that way. But there was a time he ran into me at the library one morning when I was trying to finish creating the figures for our thesis class later that day. I told him about how tired I was, and he patted my shoulder in sympathy. I still remember that moment even now, because his touch surprised me.

My friends all know that I don't like to be touched. But that's not entirely accurate. It's true that I don't particularly hug people when I greet them, and I can get annoyed when people cling on my arms too much. But there is something undeniably reassuring about the human touch when used sparingly. This was one of things I learned in college. When my friend broke up with her boyfriend of five years, or when my friend's expensive camera was stolen in Vietnam, I knew that even if I didn't know what to say, the best I could do was a hand on their back, an arm around the shoulder, something to let me know them know that I was physically there for them.

On another note, the dream dictionary that G gave me years ago cautions that dreaming of lockjaw is a warning not to say too much. Since indiscretion is a vice I have continuously struggled with, I supposed I'd best keep my mouth shut today.