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I've been having lots of vivid dreams lately, for which I blame the lack of sunlight. But last night's was special.
I'm watching video on a big TV. A woman I know, maybe my ex, is sitting next to me. The video is shot through a windshield. I realize that it's 53rd Ave. in Gainesville, FL, the street I usually take between the airport and Mom's. "That's Gainesville," I say to the woman next to me.
In the way of dreams, suddenly I'm driving the car. I turn right into a driveway near 34th St. and go into one of the buildings there that aren't much bigger than ordinary houses. There's what appears to be the jaundiced corpse of an old man lying next to a sleeping old Asian woman* who's apparently my mother. She wakes up. She's some combination of dirty and bruised, but she looks happy to see me. The corpse stirs and gets into the bed. I manage a cheerful, "How are you doing?"
A swarthy man I don't recognize exhales cigarette smoke**, coughs fit to eject a lung for several seconds, and croaks, "Stupid question." I wake up.
Oh by the way: my mother turns 84 today. I guess I can say that without locking this entry now that Good Sister is in charge of Mom's money.
I miss the dream from a couple of nights ago wherein I was at what looked like Renfaire with the Wendling, spotted Dancer, waved her down as she was leaving, and kissed her.
*I've been to Uwajimaya twice in as many weeks lately.
**Mom smoked for 45 years. That's probably why she got breast cancer twenty years ago and has such severe dementia now.
I'm watching video on a big TV. A woman I know, maybe my ex, is sitting next to me. The video is shot through a windshield. I realize that it's 53rd Ave. in Gainesville, FL, the street I usually take between the airport and Mom's. "That's Gainesville," I say to the woman next to me.
In the way of dreams, suddenly I'm driving the car. I turn right into a driveway near 34th St. and go into one of the buildings there that aren't much bigger than ordinary houses. There's what appears to be the jaundiced corpse of an old man lying next to a sleeping old Asian woman* who's apparently my mother. She wakes up. She's some combination of dirty and bruised, but she looks happy to see me. The corpse stirs and gets into the bed. I manage a cheerful, "How are you doing?"
A swarthy man I don't recognize exhales cigarette smoke**, coughs fit to eject a lung for several seconds, and croaks, "Stupid question." I wake up.
Oh by the way: my mother turns 84 today. I guess I can say that without locking this entry now that Good Sister is in charge of Mom's money.
I miss the dream from a couple of nights ago wherein I was at what looked like Renfaire with the Wendling, spotted Dancer, waved her down as she was leaving, and kissed her.
*I've been to Uwajimaya twice in as many weeks lately.
**Mom smoked for 45 years. That's probably why she got breast cancer twenty years ago and has such severe dementia now.
