Hey, Mom! The Explanation.

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Saturday, February 20, 2016

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #228 - Dreams part four

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #228 - Dreams part four

Hi Mom,

Another installment in my continuing dream journal series. The dates mark when I woke up.

Dreams - 1601.22

Dreams should be consistent and continual narratives. But this one was all fragmented with unrelated parts, some of which are lost as I do not remember them.

In the first part, I am in Calculus class but not at WMU. I am some kind of boarding school, a big mansion, like this one from the film The Awakening.

It's Calculus but not my current Calculus teacher. Someone more in line with the caretaking character in that movie but bigger and more doughy.

There's stacks of boxes everywhere and out desk are situated among them. The Calculus teacher takes some students away to help her search through things elsewhere in other boxes, leaving me to do homework with less favorable students left behind. I know that they have all covered up a murder, especially the favored students she has taken with her. When they come back, they spin alibis and excuses, but I know the truth, and I do not believe their lies. I am determined to expose them for the murders, once I find proof, and make sure they are brought to justice.

Now a new scene. Might as well be a separate dream. Some man (not my Dad) and some woman (not you, Mom), his wife are in a hospital room. The woman is on a ventilator and cannot speak. The man is spewing angry venom, unloading complaints and criticisms with his back to her. He thinks something is unfair. He has resentments for her. He has so many things he never said but they are all negative and angry and bitter. While he talks, she stops breathing. When he finally turns around, he is thunder struck with grief and shame. How awful is that to have those be your last words to someone you love. But then she may not be dead. Did she just breathe? Can he makes amends? Can he say other words which will be the last words she hears?

Then the dream changes again. Completely different. You are visiting me, Mom. I tell you how much I miss you, and I am crying. You are seated. Maybe in your wheelchair maybe not. You are wearing the blue fleece with the polar bears. We are hugging as best we can with you seated and me kneeling next to you. "I miss you so much," I tell you. "I know," you say. I ask if we will be together again, and you say, "yes, of course, we will."

And I wake up.


Dreams - 1601.26 - Mom, I am abandoning the direct address here to describe you in the dream instead of writing to the you in the dream.

This dream had several parts. Early parts are not relevant to Mom but are interesting. I was in a diner in the American southwest, and there was a strange waitress, a large woman, tall but beefy, with a hidden darkness, a terrible secret, and thus an often distant and distracted demeanor.

Later, I was trying to enlist the help of a Hispanic man with his truck and moving some large things. I was telling him I knew one of his relatives when I realized that I was thinking of someone named Muniz and he is named Hernandez. I was embarrassed.

Then the dream shifts and I am entering a big house, 19th century. It's night and possibly storming outside. I am afraid of ghosts. There are two doors in the entry to the right of the front doors with vestibule. There's a large stair to the left that goes straight up to a hall that run perpendicular and can be seen from below. There's a railing along the hall in the second floor but with posts and the hall is visible through the slats. Everything is lush in red velvets and dark purples and tones of 19th century buildings of the time. Of the two doors, I know one is a closet, so I open the other, announcing to the ghosts that I am not afraid of them. A bathroom is revealed, but I know the wall with the sink and mirror opens up a secret door that gives access to a series of huge, warehouse size rooms mechanical shops and laboratories. I am too afraid to open the secret door and search for ghosts, so I shut the door and turn.

Up the stairs, I see my mother's ghost lying on the carpet in the upstairs hallway. I know it's my mother because of her signature hair. She is wearing a green dress, not quite like the one in her obituary picture. Darker green in keeping with the style of the home. I run up the stairs, telling her I am so happy to see her and how much I have missed her. For a moment the fear is gone. But then it's back as my mother issues a ghostly moan, and then I wonder if this is my mother after all as she is not acting like even a ghost of my mother would act.

The ghost, who may or may not be my mother, says "you can hear voice of my ghost in the winds at night."

But then, it's clear that this is not my mother's ghost. Something else happened, which I cannot remember.

Then it's my friend Jessica Bauer, who is the caretaker for this home. She tells me that the ghost was certainly not my mother and that the ghosts here are all bluster and noise. The lights come up in the building, like the end of a movie, and soon after the dream ends.



Dreams - 1602.20

I dreamed I was in prison. In the dream. it starts out that I am already in prison, but later, it's a dream about how I have to go to prison. At the start, while in prison, I have one book, and I am wondering what will happen when I finish the book. What will I do? Will I be able to get another book? I am talking to Dad while we line up to be escorted to dinner. You are there, Mom, in your wheelchair, nearby and listening as always.

There's a great deal of detail here I have forgotten, but later in the dream I am in your bedroom at the Richland Woods house, talking to you and Dad as he did the fluff and buff, talking to you both as I did so many times. I have been told I am going to be taken to prison, and I don't want to go. I am having strong panic rise in me. And I am starting to realize the impact of going to prison, which at this point I realize is going to be for about a month. Will I be able to take my computer and work while in prison? What about classes? I am definitely going to miss a month of classes. I am going to have to email my professors. But then, when I realize that I may not work, I am concerned that I will have no jobs when I get out of prison. What am I going to do?

This was a full on anxiety dream, Mom. I had the strongest sense that I did not want to go to prison, and especially that I did not want to leave that room with you and Dad.

(NOTE: I am cheating. I am back dating this post and this dream. I actually had this dream Monday morning 1602.22, which is the morning I am writing this post and sending it back in time, but I changed the date on the dream simply to be consistent with the date on the post.)



Reflect and connect.

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.

Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.


- Days ago = 230 days ago

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1602.20 - 10:10

NOTE on time: When I post late, I had been posting at 7:10 a.m. because Google is on Pacific Time, and so this is really 10:10 EDT. However, it still shows up on the blog in Pacific time. So, I am going to start posting at 10:10 a.m. Pacific time, intending this to be 10:10 Eastern time. I know this only matters to me, and to you, Mom. But I am not going back and changing all the 7:10 a.m. times. But I will run this note for a while. Mom, you know that I am posting at 10:10 a.m. often because this is the time of your death.

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