My Dream

I had one of those dreams last night that hangs with you throughout the day. It's mostly random and non-sensical, but some parts I found interesting.

I woke up late for class (ironic for a dream to begin with waking up, no?) and my big paper was due. I was so rushed and late and panicked. My paper wasn't printed out yet and class was already starting. I rushed around and jumped on my motorcycle to ride to school. I was watching myself ride, careening down the freeway and the brakes weren't working. Finally, I figured out that I had to push the down arrow key on the laptop do get the brakes to work. But too late! The bike fell over and the rider (me) flew off and skidded across the gravel. At this point I was the rider in person again. I lay on the ground looking out dimly at the gravel so close to my face and the freeway blurry in the background. Blackness started crowding in around the edges and I knew I was losing consciousness. I wondered if I would wake up again. I wondered if I did wake up again if it would be in this life or in some kind of afterlife. I hoped I would wake up at all. What was scary was oblivion.

A moment later I heard a stream of running water. Relief poured through me. I was not non-existent. I opened my eyes and there was a Native American Indian standing over me smiling. He was busy cooking. I guess he was God in my dream. He said his name was Hasmopeet, and when I asked what his name meant he told me cheerily that he had already told me that he won't tell me what his name means. And that it was only fair because I wouldn't tell him what my name meant.

The storyline of the dream here got a little confusing so I'll be brief. I'm not sure any more if it was still the afterlife or if I was really alive again. My friends, Rachel & Jeff were there cooking lunch for us. And suddenly I just knew I needed to mourn. Overwhelming grief consumed me and I burst out "I just need to cry! May I please have one of the dishes of coleslaw?" I took a small dish of coleslaw and began to weep and weep (while holding it). It was such mourning, such wrenching sorrow over something...past.

That was about the end of my dream as I remember it. That grief hung around me a lot today. Not sure what it was even about.

I dream so often. Tim never remembers his dreams. I find them fascinating. I guess I was hoping that in sharing the dream with all of you that I would, in some way, be released from it a bit.