My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-Four

My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!

When I'm stressed, my dreams get violent. This isn't much of a surprise given my preference for swordfight-packed books and video games, but my subconscious is shockingly good at providing detailed action-movie plots to externalize whatever is bugging me at any given moment. There was a lot bugging me in high school, even if it was just raging hormones and homework, so my dreams regularly featured full-color surround-sound with extra explosions.

One fine evening my sophomore year, I found myself leading the remnant of a scouting squad back to the main camp after an ambush by the orcs. I was pissed - the orcish champion (who was inexplicably human, and also kinda hot) had engineered the ambush, and I'd lost at least one friend. In typical dream fashion, the next scene was the full-out melee between the human and the orcish armies. I was trying to find the orcish champion, but instead encountered the orc king. He was about four feet tall, green, and not nearly good enough with a sword. I killed him, and the battle melted away.

My own king told me the orcish champion had escaped - I was ordered to run her down and capture her. So off I went, and I ended up cornering her in what was, if I recall correctly, my junior high school bathroom. I attempted to menace her with my sword. She laughed and mocked me. Pissed, I knocked her sword from her hand and lunged. I stabbed her square in the chest, and she dropped.

And that was when I realized I loved her.

Now, this was a dream. It didn't have to make sense. I didn't need any particular relationship with her or even to know her name. It was pure emotion - I dropped to my knees, told her I loved her, and watched the light go out of her eyes. I woke up sobbing.

I still don't know if she heard me.

I think about her almost every night, more than a decade later. And the idea of losing my temper like that, lashing out, still scares me white. It was just a dream, but I can still feel that sense of overwhelming loss and grief. Sometimes, while sparring, I'll kick a little bit harder than I should, more out of reaction than strategy, and then I'll freak out very quietly and pull way back. Maybe it makes me a safer partner - that would be nice to believe. But mainly I still have to deal with the unshakable knowledge that I could kill someone in a moment of heat. It doesn't matter that it was just a dream.

I've accepted that I have to learn how to fight better in order to make myself safer - it's part of why I like studying karate in a non-competitive environment. But I still I tend to look a little longer than I should at tall brunettes with long, straight hair, because part of my mind insists that she was *real*, and someday maybe I'll find her, and get a chance to apologize.

Incidentally, taking a shotgun blast to the stomach - even in a dream - is not a pleasant experience. I don't miss high school a bit. Only one week left to donate $5 to our fundraiser!