Wednesday, March 14, 2012


I had a dream about my mother on Monday night. Listen, you don't need to roll your eyes. I usually start to glaze over when someone starts a story with, "So, I had this crazy dream!"


But, if I don't write about it, images from it'll keep rolling around my brain like a coin dropped into one of those spiral wishing wells at the mall.


We were sitting at a picnic table; my father was there too. My mother looked just as she did before she got sick, and that's the first time that I've seen her like that in a dream. Honestly, I've only dreamed about her three times since she passed away, and the other two times, she appeared ill, wearing her white baseball cap, and she was kind of... well... droopy. Beaten. Tired.

But this time, she was just as I've seen her a thousand times: enjoying the sun, wearing a striped t-shirt, glasses, and sporting a granny ponytail. We didn't talk. There were no life truths that I told myself via the dreamscape. But it felt good to see her animated and not have it be through a computer screen..

It felt good. Reassuring. If you believe in the heebie-jeebie, which I do, it's a message that she's OK. If you believe in the everyday, which I do, then its a message to myself that I'm getting to be OK.

Either way is good, no?

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