I dream all the time.
And I recall, vividly, most when I wake.
Like the one last night.
I’m going to be rather selfish here, for a moment.
I want us to cure cancer.
I want us to fill in the dementia gaps.
I want us to reverse MS.
But, oh, do I wish we could find out about dreams.
There are seemingly 18,907 books out there about dream interpretations. And, like horoscopes, the only thing that align are their subjects.
For example:
There’s an Aquarius here. There’s an Aquarius there.
There’s a Late for School plot twist here. There’s a Late for School plot twist there.
But when you get into the weeds, it’s chaos.
One tells me I’m ready to fall in love this week. The other tells me I could be betrayed.
One tells me I’m worried about a deadline. The other tells me I’m a rebel.
One tells me water means purity of thought. The other tells me water meant I had to pee.
Last night’s dream was no less confusing.
It had a few family members, a disturbing death scene, then a surprising segue into moments with Tim.
My parents were there. My brother Fred was there. So too was my Irish Twin.
Fred was in the death scene, which was frightening, long, and heavy on details.
Afterwards, my Mum and I decided to meet up at a mall to specifically eat chili.
Whilst driving, I rang my one-time friend and university professor, Tim.
Grumpy, Tim’s nickname from way back then, answered the phone as if he had been expecting me.
I told him about the day.
He said to come by.
So I signalled a lane change and turned right onto Tyler Ave.
Grumpy greeted me with a warm enveloping hug, the kind of hug that reminds me of an oversized sweater.
We walked arm in arm to his office, which had that familiar settled smell of brewed espresso and old books.
We weaved amongst the magnolia-lined paths that wind down to the boutique shops.
We sat on a bed of leaves, under a canopy of trees.
As random individuals passed us by in the woods, Grumpy asked me to join him and his friend for dinner.
I asked him if I would be welcomed.
He leaned in and whispered: Always.
Then we kissed.
And as we did, the world turned a mystical glowing green … like an aurora in the northern night sky.
Then I woke to my phone’s alarm.
My dream began scary and ended magically. It was haunting, sensory, and sensual.
But all the pieces sewn together baffles my logical brain. And though it was undoubtably lovely to see him after 20 years, why Tim?
So all day I’ve been asking myself: What does it mean? To no avail.
It’s frustrating to not be able to translate something of your own making.
It’s also madness I say.
Madness.
And, for sure, tonight’s subconscious adventure will only further advance the cause of this infuriating puzzle.
Happy Friday.