Dreams

I dream about my mom all the time. Sometimes they are nonsensical dreams, like tonight. But often there are bits and pieces that do make sense. Like the setting. Or the words someone uses. Or how someone might be dressed. The other morning I laughed in my sleep. It was 6am. Kate was getting up for her day. And, seemingly from nowhere, I laughed. But in fact I was responding to something in my dream. It was a comment my dad said to my mom about a Christmas present she brought for herself. I don't recall it as ever being said in real life. But it obviously it struck me as sufficiently funny to warrant laughing aloud, while sleeping, which in turn caused me to stop sleeping.

Which brings me to tonight. Or, more accurately, this morning. It's 3:31 am, Saturday morning, April 23rd. It's raining outside and the air is damp and cold. In movies I often think rain is a symbol. The cleansing away of bad stuff. And then the dawn of a new day - usually sunny with a chirping bird or two thrown in for good measure. In real life I believe in symbols as well. When I'm in the commons (that's the cafeteria for you non-BU people), I believe that if the milk runs dry from the steel cow that I shouldn't get cereal. On some level I register this as a gentle push away from my thoughts of cereal and towards, for example, a cup of coffee. Silly enough, I suppose. But right now there are people in the mid-west worshiping a figure on the wall that has a rather vague resemblance to the Virgin Mary. Well if it means something to these folks then have at it. City workers have stated publicly that it's really no more than a stain caused by the winter salt and cinders. But still they worship. Perhaps someone will cut that piece of cement out of the wall and auction it on Ebay. Some enterprising woman did something along these lines with her piece of toast. It popped out of the toaster one day with an uncanny reference to the Virgin Mary, according to the seller. The current bid is $10.50.

Now I'm not looking down on people who see signs. I consider myself among them. And because of this these dreams have me confused. Prior to February, dreams were rare for me and the ones that actually had some discernable nugget of wisdom were essentially absent. Thinking about these surreal and fleeting moments was entirely unnecessary. Now I find myself in an unaccustomed position as I try to interpret my daily mind-dump. Usually I just wind up scratching my head. But I feel a cosmic sense of certainty that there is a message to be gleaned from these bits and pieces. Something I'm supposed to figure out. Not necessarily because someone put it there. But because, as people, we see symbols in most everything. Interpreting these symbols is important and insightful and gives meaning to what we do. I just wish it was more along the lines of whether there's any milk left.

It's now 3:53 am. I'm going to attempt to return to slumber.

See you in my dreams, Mom.