Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Tool -- Reflection

I've been having strange dreams. This is not a new thing. The other night I dreamed someone was trying to take Bella, and I shot them. In the hand. I was aware that I had a handgun, so I used it. Then suddenly I was in my own RPG, like stone walls and sliding doors that opened when I approached. It felt like I was in doom. But whenever I encountered something to shoot, I felt ineffective with the weapon. I shot only to wound, disable, and move on. When I awoke I saw the news about the douchebag who went on the killing spree at UCSB. I was horrified at the thought that I'd been dreaming such things that night. But that's the thing about dreams, you never know what will happen, and most of the time it's out of your control.

Last night I dreamed of Mom. We went shopping, and it was almost as if she weren't dead. She pulled this outfit off the rack and held it up. It was a black and white polka dotted monstrosity with lots of ruffles, "I saw it last time we were here," I had replied, dismissing the outfit at once. She called to me And I turned, and voila!, she was wearing it, though she looked ridiculous. The bottoms of it looked like old time pantaloons. She was also wearing black stilettos and a wide-brimmed black hat. We laughed together, and then it was time to go.

Suddenly we were climbing out of the car at Gramps' house. And Mom.was helping me put on my grey trench coat. And I could feel her hands on my arm and shoulder as we juggled shopping bags and purses between us. And then one of her sisters arrived and Mom called out to her and she turned and waved.

And just like that, it was over, the alarm dragging me back to wakefulness. But for what felt like an eternity in my dream I was shopping with Mom again, and felt the touch of her hands, the circle of her embrace, firm and sure and alive.

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