Sweet dreams

Occasionally I dream of my mom.  I can no longer see her face but I can feel her presence.  I simply know it’s her.  Lately, when mom does come to visit in a dream it’s with the “she’s not really gone.  She didn’t die.  She was not as sick as we thought,” theme.  I get this hope inside me.  You know, like the hope Rafiki gives to Simba about Mufasa.  Simba chases after the aged simian and the audience thinks, “Oh, I hope Mufasa is really alive!”

I wake up as disappointed as Simba when he looks at his reflection in the pool of water.  Mom is gone.

When she does make an appearance in my dreams she usually talks to the family.  Or helps us out.  We tend to keep her pretty busy.  Some things never change.

I experienced a rather stressful weekend last week.  Not bad stress just busy stress.  I kept busy from quitting time on Friday to Sunday afternoon.  At times, I felt overwhelmed.  Sometimes inadequate.  I questioned if I am really cut out to do the job asked of me.  Thankfully, I was so busy I didn’t have much time to devote to self-doubt.

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I felt exhausted.  I gave my best and prayed it was good enough.  That night I had a momma-dream.  This time we just hugged.  It was a long embrace that lasted until I woke up.

It was enough.

I received the strength I needed to face my week.  Yeah, I got this.

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Sometimes Dreams are my Happy Place

Lady Gaga Paparazzi

The other day as I drove home from work Lady Gaga’s Paparazzi came on the radio.  As I’ve mentioned before, I live in a small town.  We only have a handful of FM radio stations.  Two are country, one is old rock, one is the Golden Oldies, and two are top 40.  I went through my country phase years ago.  For the most part I listen to the top 40 stations now.  So when Paparazzi played the other day it had been awhile since I last heard it.

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Only a Dream

I had my first posthumous dream of my mom last night.  She looked circa 1988 – the same year my brother and sister-in-law were married.  In other words, 1988 was a photo op year for our family and we have plenty of pictures of even the most camera-shy of us.  Including mom.

All of her family formed a line and instead of hugging her, we bombarded her with questions.  Mom was always command central in our family and since she’s been gone, certain things have, well, kinda fallen to pot.  It started with not being able to find the prepaid funeral arrangements for her.  We found the paperwork finally.  She had put everything we needed in a file labeled, “Funeral Arrangements.”  Go figure. 

Since then, we have looked for titles to cars (found in a file labeled, Cars), bills, tithing checks, etc.  You name it, we’ve had to search for it.  Or so it seems.  So when she appeared in my dream last night, each of us had plenty of questions for her.  Mine had to do with a certain recipe that hasn’t worked out so well for me.  I never did get an answer – shucks.

I remember the look on her face after all the questions.   She seemed to say, “I came all the way back – for this?”  In my dream I thought, “This isn’t so bad.  I can still communicate with mom.”  But then I woke up.  As the day wore on and I realized it was just a dream, I sunk back into the reality of, “No, I can’t communicate with mom anymore.”  Dang me!  Hopefully, in my next dream I’ll have the presence of mind to ask fewer questions and give more hugs.