I don't mean to whine, but I woke to crazy dreams again. Then I couldn't return to sleep. So I've been playing around on the computer for a couple of hours. I guess it's a good thing since I caught up on a lot of dangling issues.
I dreamt I was in high school again. In the beginning everything was great, kind of like a reunion. I hung out with my friends, marched in band, and revisited all my favorite teachers.
The dream covered what seemed to be several months of my life. Isn't it funny how some dreams go on and on yet only last a minute or so--or so the dream researchers say. Anyhow, I would go home after school every day to the home I grew up in. Oddly, I never went inside of the house.
It was a two story rock house with brown trim. It always had brown trim and any non-rock areas were painted a creamy color that matched the rock almost perfectly. In the dream, when I returned home every day, the house would be different. Either the trim would be a different color or the door would change. Even angles and gables would take on a different appearance. It was just weird.
On the last day, I was dropped off by the bus--that was the weirdest thing because I never rode the bus. My mom was walking up to the house in a bathing suit--not too odd because we had a pool. A friend of mine scampered off the bus with me and called to my mom. She turned to speak with us. She looked so young, just as she did years ago.
I stood there and never uttered a word. I just stared at my mother. My friend rattled on and on. I felt like telling her to shut up. Before I knew it mom said, "Okay" and turned back to the house. Then her appearance began to change.
My friend was pulling my arm. I pulled it away and stood watching my mother walk back to the house. Her gait began to shuffle, her back hunched over, her hair began to turn straw-like. I reached for her and screamed, "NOOO!" Then I woke up.
Why would my mind play such a dirty trick on me? It was a decent dream until the end. The last thing I want is to watch my mother age, get sickly, and die all over again. And why only a short visit with her? Where was my dad? My sister?
And what was up with my childhood home? The changes were creepy.
Thinking about it now, the dream was very isolating. I never got in the house. My family was probably in there the whole time. I really would have loved to see dad again, even for just a moment.
Oh well, it was only a dream. I shouldn't let it bother me so.
