Yesterday I found myself at the intersection of Soule and 57. A blue truck sat in front of me, an ordinary blue truck, not particularly old or worn or even rusty.
The light turned green and the truck took off, simultaneously emanating a thick cloud of inky black smoke. The cloud grew expansive, hovered and finally dispersed. I decelerated and waited, holding my breath, feeling as though I were under water and an octopus or a squid had just made a grand escape. The only thing was, I felt more like the prey. Trucks are far more predatory than DJ's eleven-year-old Corolla, which I was driving.
Also, I have been dreaming about our old Homeland Road house a lot lately. In my dreams, it always has huge wings we'd never discovered, long hallways filled with bedrooms and bathrooms, even lobbies. In past dreams, these newly discovered spaces have been in bad shape, requiring a lot of fixing up, particularly plumbing. A few times, I've even encountered dysfunctional jacuzzis. But lately the expanded spaces have been livable. Last night I dreamed Shawn and I were in a very large bedroom, similar to but different from our bedroom on Homeland. The blue painted walls and wallpaper border were the same, but the border was peeling near the ceiling.
Then I woke up in my four poster bed and wondered why, why do I keep dreaming myself there?
6 comments:
What a hopeful dream that was. I love dreaming and sometimes try to decipher a theme in the dream.
Dreaming of a house you used to live in may bring into focus concerns you had within yourself at the time you lived there. The spaces you uncovered were formerly unlivable but in this dream you were able to inhabit the rooms. The plumbing and jacuzzi images suggest water. As my therapist recently told me about one of my dreams, water represents emotions. Perhaps some of your former concerns and emotions are now more well integrated into your present life.
Just some thoughts to play around with. Of course, the best person to interpret the dream is the dreamer herself. My recurring dream has always been being back in college and not knowing where my classes were, getting lost, forgetting tests, etc. I thought they had finally stopped after about twenty years but the night before we took my son to college, they started up again. I guess I should be resigned to many more years of college dreams!
Yes, it was hopeful... Those dreams have always been somewhat hopeful, in that although much, much work is required, there is far more POTENTIAL than I'd ever dreamed that old house had.
How is your sister?
Ruth, thank you for asking about my sister. I am sad to say that she died. I started going to a therapist to help me cope with her illness which was quickly followed by her death. Seeing my parents' grief, my children's sadness, losing such a vital member of my very small family, is all quite difficult. I hope that, eventually, this situation will help me to live my life as authentically as I can and to enjoy each moment that I am alive. I am working on all that but I am also working through the depression and sadness and sense of unreality of the events of the past months. Again, thank you so much for asking.
I am sorry to hear that. It seems as though it happened very quickly. That must make it even harder. I think that when we lose somebody like that, we never "get back to normal." We have to learn a new way to live, and it can take a very long time before this new way of living feels at all "normal." Rainy days make us sad, because they are gloomy. And sunny days also make us sad, because how can everybody else go on in cheerfulness while our world has crumbled? But there is still beauty in a child's smile, a raindrop in the other side of the window, a poem about a flower, a squirrel leaping from tree to tree, a Bible verse about the love and faithfulness of God (like Psalm 117:2).
I think one of the reasons God gives us beauty is to help heal us when we are in pain. I do not understand how this works, but I think it is why people send flowers to hospitals and funerals.
It is not that beauty replaces anything. It is just there, existing as a reason for us to continue to exist, encouraging us to see and to love and especially to hope.
I pray that you will be able to remember all of the most beautiful parts of your sister's life, and that you will also see something beautiful each day as you grieve, something beautiful that reminds you of the goodness of God and brings you a touch of joy at this time when you so need it.
Ruth, thank you. Those are such lovely thoughts you shared that I e-mailed part of your comment to my sister-in-law who is now undergoing cancer treatment. (Her prognosis is much better than my sister's was.)
I am trying to be more aware of beauty around me. I can tell from your writing and photography that you have an eye for it. I enjoyed the pictures of the flowers in your most recent post.
Hope--have you ever looked at the flower pictures on my other blog? You might like them, too.
I wish I had correctly typed, "a raindrop on the other side of the window," instead of "...in the other side of the window."
It would be nicer if these comments could be edited.
If you ever want to have a private conversation, you can email me at ruthremembers@gmail.com
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