My Poor Sweet Little Subconscious

I feel bad for her.  When I am awake and in my knowing state, and have the ability to access my faith, my friends, my family, my spouse, my dogs and cat, I really can say without reservation that I don't have fear related to being disabled.  Honestly, I don't.  But, the deepest part of me might still.  When I dream, I dream of not being able to save myself from something due to the limitations of my disability.  I know that lots of folks dream of suddenly not being able to run when they need to or can't move their (whatever body part) when they want to, and someone is lurking or chasing them,  yadda, yadda.  For me, my dreams are more specific.  I am always in a dire, catastrophic situation and I always cannot physically move my body quickly enough to avoid being hurt or killed.  (Sometimes, I cannot get anybody to help me, despite the begging.)  Last night's dream was new.  I was on a college campus, and one very good high school friend was with me.  I left lunch early, alone, walking with great difficulty with my cane, on my way to the Science buliding.  As I passed by another building, I got about 20 feet away from it when it collapsed on top of me.  As it fell, I tried to move faster down the sidewalk, and I couldn't.  So I dove for cover underneath a bench.  And I did survive the disaster, but I also lost part of myself.  One of my fingers.  So, I am not as fearless as I claim to be, or want to be.  Or maybe the primal part of me is always going to fight for survival and strive for it, even though I am peaceful with the concept of meeting Jesus.  Probably that's a biological thing, just like fighting for air when you are drowning.  I'm tired of waking up thinking, man, if I hadn't been in that wheelchair, I'd have been able to get down the stairs and away from (whatever).  What it really means is that in my subconscious, she knows that I am permanently changed.  I'm not able to protect and save her child-like innocence.  She is at the mercy of what happens, as am I.  She is scared.  I'm not, but I'm awake.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not welcoming death any time soon, but I am absolutely ok with it when it happens.  I love life, and I avoid danger, but I am not afraid of dying.  This life has shown me what faith really is, and how much My Father adores me.  That being said, a whole building did fall on top of me last night.  And I lost part of myself.  And, if I hadn't been disabled, I might have saved myself.  I might not, but, in this situation, I physically could not.  Subconcsious me is a bit sad when I wake up from those dreams.
Grateful that I haven't had any buildings fall on me.  And for the nice, safe, comfortable one I sit in now.
Have happy days.