Monday, May 10, 2010


I am known for wild dreams that stay with me after I wake. I used to go to the office and recount them. Melinda has never forgotten the time I dreamt that someone had brought a possum to the office, and she went to pick it up and oust it,and it peed on her. She'll still say, "I sure hated being peed on by that possum." I dream often of my parents, more often than I'd like of my ex-husband but almost always in the good days when we were happy. Sometimes generations are juxtaposed in my dreams, and reality intrudes--something that I know is true of the present moment or the day ahead appears in my dream. I remember them for a day or two and then forget.
Once I told Melinda I wrote a complete novel in my dreams. She said, "Quick! Write it down," and I replied, "It wasn't any good." She laughed. "You not only wrote it, you critiqued it!"
All of us have recurring dreams, whether we remember them or not--some of mine are so common as to be boring, such as not knowing where to go for an exam when I haven't been to class all semester. Another one for me is climbing a staircase. I get to the top and can barely push myself over the edge--somehow I never walk up to the top. I've looked these up and decided almost any recurring dream you have relates to childhood insecurity--I don't remember feeling insecure as a child. That came later. So I've lost a bit of faith in dream interpretation sites on the Web.
But last night--or rather this morning--I dreamt that I was climbing a staircase that was very icy. The best I could do was get a foothold, grab the railing, and then push myself up with all my strength, gaining a few feet each time. I looked up and the top was still far away. The friend I was with was way behind me, and strangers were in between, but my friend kept calling, "Sorry, Judy." Well, I woke myself up, because I was really struggling up that staircase in my bed in my sleep. Good thing I sleep alone--anyone in bed with me would have been alarmed, as I was. Scooby, however, didn't seem to notice.
If you saw my post of yesterday on the web and looked for it, I apologize. I woke at 5 a.m. and rushed to delete it. I don't like self-pity, and I had indulged myself in a bit of Mother's Day self-pity. As it turned  out, I had a wonderful evening. Went to Jordan's to share the holiday with the entire Burton family and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The other kids all called, and we had good conversations, so I feel loved as a mother and happy with my lot in the world.And I thought a lot about my own mother and what a strong influence she was on me--teaching me to cook and to laugh, which she often did better than anyone I know. I can see her now with tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks as she recounted stories of her early married life, when all of my uncles were in osteopathic medical school and hijinx seemed the order of the day. I should have gone to the cemetery, but I need Jordan to show me the gravesite--I always get lost.
This morning, before I fell into that climbing dream, I was awake for a while, writing in my mind a chapter in my memoir--I have to keep up with my memoir-writing class. I chose the chapter I titled "Loves, Loving and Lovers" and wrote all I had to say. I may post some of it here, but not all! I'm even uncertain about sharing it with the class--and my kids, oh that's another matter!

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