I woke up crying this morning. It was so hard for me regain consciousness and realize that it had been a dream. I have never been so relieved.

I dreamed that my mother died. (I notice this is the second time I’ve written that sentence since the dream and I never refer to my mom as mother, but did so twice in talking about the dream).

The dream began in my grandmother’s house. She was returning home from a long trip away where she had been staying with her sister and nieces and a good amount of extended family. She had gone to help them for a while. I was in her house as were a lot of other people who were welcoming her home. I was noticing how things around the house had grown old and worn. I imagined how they must have seemed so new, modern, contemporary and exciting when they were first put in.

At one point, I was exiting one of the bedrooms, into the hallway, and it was very narrow. I had to kind of hunch down and crawl under a type of counter to get into the hallway and the hallway itself was very narrow. I pointed it out to someone and they agreed that it was particularly narrow. (As I write this, I fear the claustrophobic feeling that was looming in the narrowness of the hallways…hoping I don’t have anything similar in my dreams tonight!)

I walked into the kitchen area where a lot of people were gathered. There was a tall man there who looked like a young Chevy Chase with brown eyes. He was a news anchor and he was interested in me. I felt excited about that and wanted to explore it, but I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if it was okay, if I was actually single and available or if it would be something I’d have to hide, which I wouldn’t want to do.

I was then out on the street. A New York City street like some of those that still exist on the Lower East Side…bodegas, dollar stores, metal stairs leading up to loft buildings and tenement buildings. My mom was somewhere in a car and something happened to her. Some fluke thing that she is resilient enough to withstand or from which she could normally be revived. The paramedics were not able to revive her and I got the news that she died. I was in shock. Crying but also in shock. In and out of disbelief. It didn’t make sense and it didn’t seem right. It didn’t fit her personality or her energy to have died this way.

I wanted to be with someone. I was desperate. The loft of the street I was on was where my friend J lived. I thought, “yes, I’ll go to J’s!” I ran up the stairs and into the loft which was divided into private living spaces. I opened the door to J’s space. It was then L’s. She was in there waiting for a friend of hers. She didn’t see me and I backed out of the room. Her door was graffitied with her name in bubble writing. As I left I saw her in my minds eye laughing with her friend in her brightly lit room.

I went back outside and looked in my bag for my phone. I was still going in an out of shock. I pulled out a black, rubber coated receiver. It was one of those attachments you can get for your cell phone that looks like an old phone receiver. It stood out to me. It looked very substantial.

I held the receiver up to my ear and it was my mom’s boyfriend. He had my brother and I on the phone and he was playing back a phone message my mom had left about a party she was planning for his birthday. She was saying, “Hi guys! Just touching base about Saturday…” I thought of her boyfriend and how devastated he must be. I was still going in and out of shock, disbelief, not understanding and crying.

I woke up and it vaguely started to sink in that it had been a dream. I grasped for that and tried to pull myself awake and into consciousness, but I was still crying as I woke up and continued for a little while.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: