I slept hard last night; went to bed late, but six hours later I’m wide awake, nudged into consciousness by a complicated and convoluted dream.
I’m not one to wake up and write down dreams, but that’s what I did this morning. As the words and and snippets of memory (memory? is that the right word for the images you dream? They’re not really memories, per se; but they come back into my mind in the same fashion…what is the word for that?)…..
I’ve lost my train of thought.
Anyway, I jotted down what came to my mind and the connections were unclear, but fascinating. It was my family – all family members, appearing in a church located at the immediate shore of the Pacific Ocean, which was filled with surfers and seagulls; and yet the church was down the street from my old church in Ohio (it was a dream, remember?) There was a bicycle for transportation with a broken chain that I could not fix.
It was an old church building filled with a crowd – some I knew, most I did not. The electricity as the service began was tangible, but it wasn’t a production sort of energy. It was messy and loud kids and ladies in dresses and guys hanging up curtains in the windows and what just felt a lot like community. A female pastor, her husband also a pastor – turned out she officed there and was part of the community, but her husband would be the preacher.
At one point I looked up and saw my aunt Kay, and my uncle Jim. My uncle Dave. My cousins, Joey and Jimmy. Their kids and wives. My cousins Drew and Garth and George. My children. My dad and my mom.
At one point we were all in our big red Suburban, being driven around by my mom (an unlikely scenario – my mom prefers not to drive. But it was a dream.) Awareness and emphasis was on the health of my dad and my aunt.
The first song was Tom Petty’s ‘American Girl’, and Doug Dowdle -our insurance agent from Virginia – made a cameo appearance; lip-syncing while holding a brand new baby. A couple of the Warinner brothers, from home, were fixing things and preparing things throughout the building.
I took responsibility for the baby and at the end of the dream, while trying to change her diaper, she stuck her hand in the thorn of a rose bush. I’d laid her down too closely to the flowers, and her crying woke me up.
Crazy stuff – but fascinating to contemplate how much of my real like – the preoccupation with my loved ones and their health, particularly – weaves itself through the act of dreaming. I’d love to know what it all meant.
At the very least, I am sure that the overriding emotional connection is of family; in the dream, when I looked up and saw that all of my extended family was there, I was flooded with feelings of joy; affirmation; gratitude. Those feelings seem quite real to me in this waking moment. It seems somehow to be the point.
But who knows?
I’m writing this first thing, early, rough and scattered. It makes no sense and it’s not much of a blog post, but I’m writing down the reality this week – and so it’s not a bad place to start.