Another Dream
Jul. 25th, 2018 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayLast night, I dreamed of her again.
Her appearance in the dream was ever so brief. Like that of an ageless, eternal star who takes the cameo role in a movie, appearing for only a second or two but creating a glitter and an afterlight that is immediately recognized and then remembered, long after the credits have rolled and the house lights have come up and and the actual stars of it are forgotten.
That's how it was in the dream. It was her younger self, smiling, spontaneous, beautiful. Like the picture of her, newly-capped, at the nursing school graduation: mother of children, friend of many, promising career ahead. Still able to smile about herself and her prospects in life.
But in the dream she said something, calling to me from a distance. And I don't remember if I was able to make out her words, even though I was intently focused and immediately aware.
What I know for sure is that, for a moment, we had that connection, were reaching towards each other across that space. Much as we had done in her last days, across her bed, across the widening void.
I fervently wish that I knew what she said, so deeply wish that I could remember it. But then, the moment was altered by the realization that she couldn't possibly be there. And I wish, as well, that I knew what she said in response to that. Because it seems to me that there was something, which might have been the crucial piece in all of it.
I think I feel this way because I seem to be learning, once more, that dreams are the place where we finally reach across the barriers that separate us from each other, whether in this life or between this life and the next.
So that now, in this world's light, I have the memory of a dream which I speak of here as a means of preserving it, of thinking about what it might mean, and perhaps understanding what it was that she was trying to tell me...
LPK
Dreamwidth
7.25.2018
Her appearance in the dream was ever so brief. Like that of an ageless, eternal star who takes the cameo role in a movie, appearing for only a second or two but creating a glitter and an afterlight that is immediately recognized and then remembered, long after the credits have rolled and the house lights have come up and and the actual stars of it are forgotten.
That's how it was in the dream. It was her younger self, smiling, spontaneous, beautiful. Like the picture of her, newly-capped, at the nursing school graduation: mother of children, friend of many, promising career ahead. Still able to smile about herself and her prospects in life.
But in the dream she said something, calling to me from a distance. And I don't remember if I was able to make out her words, even though I was intently focused and immediately aware.
What I know for sure is that, for a moment, we had that connection, were reaching towards each other across that space. Much as we had done in her last days, across her bed, across the widening void.
I fervently wish that I knew what she said, so deeply wish that I could remember it. But then, the moment was altered by the realization that she couldn't possibly be there. And I wish, as well, that I knew what she said in response to that. Because it seems to me that there was something, which might have been the crucial piece in all of it.
I think I feel this way because I seem to be learning, once more, that dreams are the place where we finally reach across the barriers that separate us from each other, whether in this life or between this life and the next.
So that now, in this world's light, I have the memory of a dream which I speak of here as a means of preserving it, of thinking about what it might mean, and perhaps understanding what it was that she was trying to tell me...
LPK
Dreamwidth
7.25.2018
