Only a dream~

Into the future . . .

I cried in dreams two nights in a row.

Dream one: I was at a teacher's meeting. We were planning to give an important test the next day. There was a lot of preparation to be done. At the end I thought, "Wait a minute. Someone will be giving this test to my class. I'm not responsible. I'm retired." I pointed this out to another teacher. I left the meeting and cried.

Dream two: I was waiting for an important phone call, but in the mean time had tried to get things done. I'd cut the time too close and realized my cell phone was in the car, not my pocket, so I ran to be sure not to miss the call. I found my phone already flipped open. When I said hello, it was my mother. She told me that her mother--long dead--no longer recognized her, and wasn't that funny? "It's funny," I acknowledged, "but it's also sad." Yes, my mother admitted. And I cried.

They say dreams mean something.

They say dreams work out conflicts we struggle with in daily life.

They say dreams are cathartic.

They say a lot of things.

I only know that I'd been unnaturally sad for a few days before the dreams.

I'm fine, now. Outwardly, any way. As far as I know.

But I'm willing to bet I'm struggling with change, at the very least. Things have been left behind that mattered very much--my job, for one. I thought I'd moved on, and quite happily. But there must be a residue of melancholy. My mother will be 89 soon. It makes me happy that she still remembers me; she doesn't remember much. But if ever she doesn't remember me . . . I've felt the pain already . . . in a dream.
~~~~~
Life is its own journey, presupposes its own change and movement, and one tries to arrest them at one's eternal peril. ~Laurens van der Post