It's barely morning and I'm just waking up. My eyes feel sticky and dry. I had really disturbing dreams last night that pounded me with frustration. In one, I was a traveler and I was trying to get home. Not to the home I'm in right now, but to my childhood home. There was a family party going on there and I knew I would be missed. I was stuck in the middle of a grass field with other travelers each just as lost and as stuck as I was. We were all waiting for a train, but each of us had different destinations. Ironically, trains kept coming, staffed by beautiful Indian attendants...but they were all going someplace else, somewhere we didn't intend to go. I thought of different ways to get home,...I could walk but it was too far. Perhaps I could rent a car... but I couldn't afford it. So I sat down in the grass with the other travelers and just waited.
I woke up from this dream before anything was resolved. The dog was licking the soles of my feet. A sweet way of saying...hey lazy butt, get up and get my kibble. This is becoming a habit for him, I guess my feet get hot in the morning and I stick them out of the covers where they are in his visual field. It wakes me up enough for me to giggle and scratch him behind his ears, but I don't think that is what he's after.
He did get his kibble eventually, but not before I sank back into another dream. This one was less defined with a lot more side action happening but what I remember most was a family meeting with one of my former clients (I am a speech therapist working as a supervisor to graduate students at the U...not sure why I feel compelled to include that fact because anyone who has the inkling to read this already knows this). I've decided not to discuss my client's stories on my blog, even anonymously...privacy is a sacred thing. So I won't tell her story, I'll just say it is the most tragic thing I've ever seen and this girl continues to haunt me. She is my age and from what I've learned about her personality before her accident, I think we could have been good friends. In my dream she was an infant, a beautiful, healthy infant. She was smiling and visiting each of us in the circle the way any normal infant would. Her father (much younger than he is in real life) was reporting on the therapy she had received under my tutelage. (I don't actually provide the therapy at my work, I just supervise). He was harsh. He said of me...."She didn't know what she was doing," "I can't believe she enjoys her work", he said. "My daughter made no progress" "It was a waste of time." Ouch ouch ouch. I nodded in agreement. "You are right. I am a fraud". Then I kissed the little girl and left the meeting and went shopping for clothes. There was a sale going on, in fact, we were having this meeting conveniently right there in the clothing store.
The last dream wasn't completely disturbing, nor would I even call it a dream. It was more of an image and I was already 1/4 awake by this time. The background was completely black. The deepest black I've ever seen. I saw an image suspended in space, floating in this deep black. It was a cyclindrical bag with thick edges. It looked like it was made of soft plastic. This bag was stuffed full of small pastel colored balls. There was no feeling or meaning attached to this image. It was just there and I watched it hanging meaninglessly in space.
Must go. House, boys, dog all in need of attention. (plus I fell asleep before doing my work thing last night)
... Noah is waiting anxiously to tell me his dreams now.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
So do you think some people dream more than others or that other just remember there dreams more. I have very few dreams -- especially with dreams of any sort of meaning.....
Nice to see you^re back to your old blogger self. As you know, I love to hear about dreams. And you always have really interesting noes. I had a dream last night in which two women were about to be executed. The judge explained how they would be given a drug first, which they should think of as a great gift. The drug would calm them and make them peacefully accept anything that happens to them. It wouldn^t hurt a bit. It was like a Nirvana drug or something. At the last minute, the father of these two girls changed his mind about signing the consent forms and they were saved--not from a life in prison but from execution. There^s more to it, but that^s all I have time for right now.
Thanks for the morning read!
What to do.... I don't know, it's hard to say why some people remember dreams and others don't. I'm certain we all have them. Maybe I remember them more because I actively seek to remember them in my waking hours so somehow it comes through the sleep veil. Hubby doesn't remember dreams, neither does my oldest, but Noah has crazy dreams like his mother and it is fun to listen to him retelling them.
Shane...I also love to hear about your dreams. They are always so complex. I wonder if you were dreaming of choosing captivity over death or over freedom. Is death and freedom sort of the same thing? The fact that you dreamed that someone else choose the fate for these girls is interesting. I wonder if it mirrors some of your anarchist ideas about larger society.
Post a Comment