Friday, August 12, 2005

Yes, A Story About A Dream

I can usually figure out what my dreams mean. Usually they are a metaphor for something weighing on one's mind. A common one I have is flying and then suddenly falling. That is apparent. Some of my entries illustrate that element in my psyche. Or dreams can simply be a painterly manipulation of events and conversations of your day. There is a great avant-garde film by Maya Deren, called "Meshes of the Afternoon," that explores this concept.

My favorite dreams are the ones I have with my dad in it. In the beginning, they were haunting because I kept thinking, "you can't be here." They are so vivid and he is usually a silent bystander. Always smiling. But sometimes he will speak. Very briefly. And I always race to find the meaning in that. Like the time shortly after his death - weeks really - and I was sleeping over at my ex's. I needed space but couldn't stand to be alone so he was sleeping out on the couch while I was sleeping in the bed.

I wake to find my dad standing before me. We are in the living room. I look over and see the ex sleeping on the couch, oblivious to the fact that my dad was before me.

I thought, 'how could he be sleeping now?'

I look back at my dad. He is smiling and he carrying a music box that is playing the song, "American Pie." He opens the music box and in it is a hologram of a baseball field. I think it is Wrigley and I don't know how I know this. He points to a couple seats in the stands right over the third base line. He doesn't say anything. He just points and I nod. I understand?

"Can I hug you?"

"No. You can't. I have to go now but you will see me again."

He turns and walks through the wall to leave. And he is gone.

I have many more of these types of dreams that leave me feeling warm. They make me feel like he is still here, watching and looking out for us. Maybe that is the meaning. My soul looking for peace, acceptance, and comfort. But what does it all mean?? I am always curious and will look for abstract meaning in everything.

So last night I had a Dad Dream. Sometimes I think I can will him to appear - as hokie as that sounds. I went to sleep last night thinking about him and how I hadn't had a Dad Dream in a while. Does he know what I am doing? What is going on in my life? What is going on in the world? Does he know that FSU may not be the Seminoles anymore? Egads! I don't necessarily believe in life after death so I struggle with this. Perhaps that's the seed. I try to be one of those spiritual people who believe that our fallen loved ones are in a grassy meadow with butterflies and chocolate cake and other loved ones. Isn't that the only way a death can be bearable? But I struggle.

So last night I had a dream within my dream. Follow? It gets better. One word for you: TomKat.

Tom was wearing blue and yellow plaid boxer shorts and on the bottom he had monogrammed, Katie Holmes. Full name. Katie was in a wheelchair and Tom was pushing her while wearing these boxer shorts. He started running at a really fast speed, Katie's hair blowing in the wind, laughing but also a twinkle of fear in her eye. Then Tom stopped pushing when he approached a Caribou Coffee Shop. He let go and left Katie rolling off out of focus. Tom jumped up and swung from the eave of the Caribou Coffee store front. And swang like a monkey. [OK. We can see how one could possible dream this. Tom is The Crazy. Jumping on Oprah's couch = not far from swinging from the local Caribou Coffee. That's no mystery. Is poor Katie going to get hurt or was she just playing around in the wheel chair - maybe for a role? Metaphor! And I think Caribou coffee came up in a conversation yesterday. But remember, I am still dreaming.]

I wake from the dream and run to tell my dad the hilarity of this dream. Like it is normal for him to be there.

He laughed and laughed and then he said, "Put that in your blog."

Then I can see him laying on the dining room floor of the last house we lived in as a family. He is laying on his stomach and looking at a laptop. Chuckling.

Uh, so now I had to write about my dream. Otherwise, nobody would ever have known that I dreamed that I dreamed of Tom Cruise swinging from a Caribou Coffee shop store front.

It must mean something.

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