Saturday, July 17, 2010


Last week at GITW, Chris asked folks in this community what we've been dreaming about. I really had no answer at the time as my dreams (though incredibly strange and vivid) never seem to pertain to events in my waking life.

I have a recurrent dream that involves moving into a new house that seems fairly normal but discovering that it's full of the most incredible stuff. Sometimes the extras are things like an elaborate art-deco in-ground pool in the basement. Sometimes it's a secret underground tunnel to my favorite bar from some other place I've lived. I love this dream. The perfect happiness of finding something completely delightful, unexpected, and unearned makes for a fantastic night's sleep.

Last night's dream featured a home office with one of those old-timey double desks and a lot of dark wood paneling (the fancy kind...not the 70's rec room stuff). It was the kind of desk that you might see in one of those old movies about a spunky lady journalist. Then a door opened up in the paneling and I walked into the most hideous secret room.

Everything (even the ceiling) was covered in harvest gold shag carpet and it had one of those conversation pits. C was playing in the pit, running up and down the stairs. After reminding her to be careful, I took a spin around the room trying to figure out how long it would take to get all of the carpet off of the walls and when I looked back at C, there were two of her.

I asked C if she could see the other girl and she said, "Yes," as if nothing could be more normal.

Then the other C looked at me and said, "I'm R."

I reached out my hands and held her by the shoulders. She was wearing the outfit I had set out for C last night on the piece of furniture where we keep her urn, a sleeveless pink shirt and jean shorts--she was warm and she looked happy and healthy. They both smiled at me and went back to playing while I started yelling for T to come and see what I found. I had a chance to see the look of absolute joy on his face as he reached to pick her up right before I woke.

It's not much--a few minutes with our missing daughter generated by my hyperactive subconscience--but I have to tell you that I feel completely replenished.