I just woke up from a nightmare. Another nightmare.They come in varying degrees, like all dreams, but the basic format is the same. I’m in a huge house and there are so many people there that it must be a party. Everything is great until it’s not. All of a sudden there are people to be fed and no clean dishes to be found. There are piles of clothes that need washing and I am naked (or dressed inappropriately for some reason) and I can’t find any clean clothes.
Then I look for my phone to call Kent (who, of course is still alive in my dream) but I can’t find my phone, my purse, or my way out of the house. Then an old-fashioned phone appears—a landline of the black rotary Dragnet variety—but I can’t use it because I don’t know Kent’s number. “Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to see is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.”
There were overpopulated giant house cats in this particular nightmare, but I doubt their importance to my point; the dead are never really gone from our minds.
Some dreams are sticky like cobwebs, while others fade away before I can get my feet on the floor. Nightmares are usually of the sticky variety. I used my tried and true anti-anxiety mantra of naming the moment.
I am standing on the deck. It is made of cement. The wind is blowing. There
is a palm tree to my right. It has as many dead fronds as live ones. They sound like a witch’s cackle. There are seagulls in the air, and I bet they don’t dream. Deep breaths. No nightmare sounds as scary as it feels, and listening to other people’s dreams is about as interesting as waiting in line at the DMV with nothing to read.
The daydreams are lighter, like ice chips. When you are just out of surgery and can’t actually drink yet. But an ice chip melts so quickly it doesn’t really satisfy the thirst. When I am near the ocean, the mother, I daydream of Kent coming back from a walk along the shore. He loved to explore. when I have trouble making a decision, I wonder what he would say.
I feel closest to Kent when I am near mother, mother ocean. I go as often as I can.
The trick with shaking out of a nightmare (or a daydream) is to get out of bed instead of turning over.