Bitch on the Blog

August 15, 2016

The land of shadows

Filed under: Atmosphere,Communication,death,Future,Human condition,Psychology,The Reaper — bitchontheblog @ 03:53
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On the whole I do find my dreams entertaining. My dreams are stories, often riddles, mostly pointers as to where I need to find my feet in waking life.

However, there is one type of what I call a “half” dream which I find disconcerting. This usually involves other people (mainly the Angel) and their wellbeing. And – please don’t laugh – the phone will ring (in my dream). The phone will ring so convincingly in my dream that I wake and reach for it. During that moment of reaching for it I wake and realize it was “just” a dream.

Bear with me. It’s not remotely amusing. It’s frightening. And I am not easily frightened, if at all.

Tonight, and I write this with my heart as heavy as only a heart can be heavy in the middle of the night, my father “phoned”. It is the call I dread. The call I will not know what to say to my father. He said my name, and then he fell silent. So we stayed silent – it’s not easy to say nothing when on the phone.

And then I woke, the phone wasn’t ringing – and I trust my mother is still alive.

U

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4 Comments »

  1. I am one of those lucky ones who do not remember what they dream about when they wake up.

    Comment by rummuser — August 16, 2016 @ 04:16 | Reply

    • You say “lucky”, Ramana. I am disappointed when I don’t remember; particularly when there are intriguing remnants of a dream – and the more you “wake” the more the whole story line vanishes into a not to be conquered distance. It is so annoying. And you can’t will a dream back. There is a metaphor in there somewhere, Ramana: How we can’t “possess”, not even our own machinations. It’s humbling.

      Of course, the dream I describe above, is of the type I call, accurately, anticipatory dream. My mother is fit, both mentally and physically, yet, listening to her on the phone, she reminds me of a late summer/early autumn rose. Still beautiful, yet slowly and steadily wilting. If she has one complaint it’s that she gets more and more tired. Overwhelmed by a constant desire to sleep. Enter her eldest daughter (that’s me) with alarm bells ringing. Is she preparing for the BIG SLEEP? And that is the phone call I dread. Mostly on my father’s behalf. It really is the devil’s own job to get your head round a parent’s demise. For donkey’s years I thought I’d be fine with it. After all: It’s what is to be expected, isn’t it? Yes. Fast forward. Now I expect it, and dread it. Dread it with a Capital D.

      So, all you parents out there. Get a grip and keep going. Your kids have enough on their assorted plates without grieving over your demise.

      That it was different for you and your father I know and appreciate, Ramana. And with that assurance I hope that what I said above you don’t find tactless.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 16, 2016 @ 09:06 | Reply

  2. Currently I don’t seem to dream much as all, or I remember so little of whatever, that it’s not a dream…but that is not to say I haven’t dreamt

    Comment by cedar51 — August 16, 2016 @ 05:56 | Reply

    • Well, my dear Catherine, as folklore goes: You are sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Like Ramana.

      Which, come to think of it and by way of warped logic, makes me as guilty as hell.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — August 16, 2016 @ 09:08 | Reply


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