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.




  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.


      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.


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

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