Dreaming Man

I'm sitting in a Starbucks, of all places, in Pigeon Forge, TN, not too long after it opened for the day.  I despise Starbucks' coffee and tend to avoid it like the plague.  Given that this is Pigeon Forge, however, there isn't an independent coffee shop, with real coffee, anywhere nearby.  I can't wait to get home tomorrow and have my first real cup of coffee in almost a week.

I woke up from a dream at 5:30 a.m. this morning.  It was a dream I needed to have and one I had hoped to have at some point.  I was wide awake and I wanted to write about the dream while it was fresh in my mind.

The dream was, of course, about my mom.  It was the first one I've had - at least the first vivid dream about her I've had - since here death.  I tend to dream a lot, so I felt, and hoped, that it was only a matter of time before I dreamed of her.

In the dream, I was moving out of a room - maybe a room at my fraternity house of my dormitory room - where I had either lived for a quite a while or, more likely, where I used to live, now the I think about it.  It was like I was going back for a weekend or for a short period of time, for a visit, and I tried to find my old room.  No one I knew was there and, initially, I used my key to enter the wrong room, down the hall from where I was.  Strangely, the key looked like the key we used to enter our dormitory room at Reese Hall my freshman or sophomore year in college.

Eventually, I entered the right room.  The room had not been lived in for quite some time.  I noticed there were a few boxes that had been packed, seemingly long ago, sitting in the middle of the floor.  There was one large box that had some of my old stuff in it.  I wish I had looked in the box, in my dream, but I didn't.  I just knew what was in there belonged to me.

Somehow, I went outside, and rather than my room in the dormitory, I was outside a room at my fraternity house, in a grassy area.  I looked around and then, it was like I was inside a larger area again, almost like a lobby or something.

I looked up and there was my mom, standing on a balcony a couple of stories above me, looking down into the lobby area of a hotel.  She was dressed nicely and wearing her glasses.  She was standing on her own, clearly herself, and appeared to be in her mid-50's.  As I gazed up at her, I could tell she wasn't confused, not at all.  That, of course, made me happy.

She didn't appear to be worried or concerned.  She wasn't looking for anyone in particular.  It was like she was just taking in her surroundings.  As I think of it now, it was like she traveling and had stopped somewhere for a brief stay.

I began calling to her - trying to get her attention - and waving.  Initially, I was concerned that others in the lobby would hear me and think I was strange, but I didn't care, so I kept calling and waving.  Not desperately, but just to try to get her attention.  I also was starting to wake up, I think, so I fought hard to stay asleep and stay in the dream long enough for her to see me.

My mom looked down, saw me, and started waving to me.  She recognized me.  I'm sure of that.  She didn't smile broadly at me or try to say anything to me.  She just waved back to me.  I was working so hard to stay in the dream for as long as I could that I didn't really have any time to try an interact with her from afar.  We waved at each other, then, finally, I woke up.

A few minutes later, Jude stirred, then got up to go to the bathroom.  When she returned, I told her about the dream.  "Good," she murmured quietly.  "That's nice."  I lay in bed, thinking, trying to decide what the dream meant.

Now, a little bit about dreams, at least my take on my dreams.  I dream a lot.  Vividly, sometimes.  I always have.

I believe in dreams and the power of dreams.  I think dreams - some dreams, anyway - have a deeper meaning.  I think dreams can contain messages.  From whom?  My subconscious?  Another person?  God?  That part, I'm not so sure about, but I think some dreams are sent to me for a reason, kind of like an e-mail or a letter, only in dream form.

Maybe a dream is a form of healing or a part of healing, as my mind processes grief or tries to make sense of a great loss in my life.  

Maybe a dream - a certain kind of vivid dream - is a kind of Rorschach test that allows me to see what I want or need to see in it - something totally different than what someone else would see.

So, how do I interpret last night's dream?  That's the question of the morning, isn't it?

I know I'll ponder that question throughout the day, and probably for the next few days, but for now, this morning, here's what I think.

In my dream, my mom was on the way somewhere.  She knew where she was going and she had a brief layover.  She was in no hurry.  For sure, she didn't have Alzheimer's disease.  She was in peak form, confident, self-assured, and not worried or afraid.  She wasn't sad.

She saw me and recognized me.  I'm stretching here, a bit, I know, but I think when she waved to me, she wanted me to know that she was okay.  I want to believe that, of course, so I'm going to.

It's my dream, after all.