Be it an incredible day that feels more like fantasy than reality, or a nightmare you’ve taught yourself to forget, these days provide an overload to the senses and experiences that we register differently to the rest.
The trick is to have as many of the good dreams as possible before the bad ones catch up. The bad ones will always catch up.
Quit the job you hate, spend a day at the beach doing nothing, take your wife out and make her laugh until her stomach hurts, go on an adventure around the world and take as many stupid, exciting risks as possible.
Because, when the bad days come, you need to be content with your lot.
Last week I watched on as someone’s bad dreams caught up.
Relatives and friends from around the country had come together on a beautiful spring day. Everyone was dressed immaculately. People that hadn’t seen each other for years embraced, old stories were re-told and, as is custom with my relatives, the appropriate levels of guilt were sent my way because of my inability to visit everyone in the room on a weekly basis.
“Is there something wrong with your car Dominic?” asked my Uncle Cosmo, filled with genuine concern.
“No uncle, it runs fine,” I responded, like a sucker.
“Ah, so you just don’t visit me because you can’t be bothered!”
“No uncle! It’s not like that… I… ummm… I’m actually very busy and important at work!”
“Bah!”
I’m convinced that this older Italian generation was born with a special talent to create guilt. It’s a tool of oppression that works way too well.
It was a picture-perfect day. The perfect atmosphere for drinking, laughs, games and photos.
A much-loved and respected member of the family had passed away, leaving behind a great legacy and a loving family.
Throughout the day at the church, cemetery and wake, I took in all of the old traditions and thought to myself:
I wonder what Clarinda would say if she could have looked forward in time 60 years ago and seen all of this.
I wonder how I’ll be sent off when it’s my time to go.
Wait a second… Why is there a statue over there of an adult Jesus holding baby Jesus?
What would a 26-year-old Italian girl, fresh off the boat in Australia, think of all this?
There was a packed church filled with people who loved her, four sons with great families of their own and a husband who was completely lost, looking into the distance, longingly, without the love of his life for the first time in 60 years.
What would she say if she could look forward and see this?
All of this is for me? What could I have possibly done during my life to deserve all of this fanfare?
What the hell are those metal flashy things people keep checking in their pockets? What’s with all the tattoos?
Wait a second… Why is there a statue over there of adult Jesus holding baby Jesus?
What would anyone say if they had a chance to say a few words at their own funeral?
Here’s the script I’m working on:
Welcome to my funeral!
Firstly, I don't like the word funeral, so, let's call it Dom’s Deadsie Party.
I’m going to operate on the assumption that I survived to be old and grey – old enough to have my pants comfortably sit around my belly button and to have an opinion on the pension.
I’m also going to assume I managed to keep a few friends and family around– people who put up with my bad jokes and shit along the way.
A few quick messages;
Any Collingwood supporters throw your hands up. Can I get a high five for the 10-15 premierships we’ve clearly won by now!? Woo!
To my future, mythical wife:
If you exist and I didn’t die alone like the kid at McDonald's prophesised last week… you married me? Seriously? Wow, did I not warn you about my phobia of spiders or how easily I can get lost? Did you see me dance sober before the wedding? What was it that got you over the line? My awkward charm?
Thanks for coming on this ride with me, I’m sorry about my general cluelessness on most things in life – I can only assume that got worse than it is now.
If you exist, I'm sure the guy in the coffin over there would say you were the best thing to ever happen to him. I'm sure he would say that some of the best moments of his life featured sitting on a couch, doing nothing with you. I'm sure he would say that you're beautiful – that you’re a star. I'm sure he would say that he loved you... Or... he could have been a jerk and complained about your cooking. No one likes their eggs overdone, so if you’re keen on re-marrying, clean up your bloody act.
To my future, mythical kid/s:
I'll tell you what the guy in the coffin may have kept to himself: there is a great chance you were 'pleasant surprises' – a drunken accident between your mum and I. Don't worry, we loved you anyway, except when you cried at 3am – I genuinely thought about donating you to scientific research during some of those nights.
Some of my happiest days in life were spent watching you play that sport/activity/hobby you love.
If I won the argument with your mum, you should be named Wheels, lightning or Flash – no need to thank me.
Just in case the old me left you nothing cool in his will, I have a backup plan for you. When I was 9 years old, your uncle Anthony and I buried 50 cents in our backyard. If my calculations from 1995 are correct, it should now be worth thousands of dollars. Break into the backyard in the house we grew up in, start digging behind the tool shed and buy yourselves something nice. You're welcome.
To my siblings, parents, cousins, uncles, aunties and any other family and friends that stuck by me throughout this whole life – especially that mid-life crisis I plan on having in my 40s – I always prided myself on surrounding myself with great people and you guys… were pretty great.Have a drink tonight, take photos, play games and please, no one mention the story of how I walked into a streetlight pole in Rome.
Thanks chaps - my happiest days were spent having fun with the people in this room, when the days passed by like dreams.
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