dreams

My brother and me with my grandparents.


In my dream last night, I was walking on a road late at night with my brother and sister. We were all much younger, and my brother was carrying his pink and white teddy bear. I half-recognized where we were, a tantalizing feeling that I had dreamed of this place before. I knew it was going to be a long walk, but I also knew it was very important that we not stop.

Ruth and Jim started getting tired, but I encouraged them to keep walking. Finally my little brother gave up, just lay down on the road and fell asleep. I picked him up and we kept walking. Then I woke up. Dreams of my brother always make me wistful, but I cherish them nonetheless; I have them so infrequently. For months after Jim died, I had a recurring dream in which Jim and I were standing in the middle of an open field of long grass, blue sky above and the sun soaking everything in warm gold. He was smiling at me, and I could see the breeze stirring his hair. I would wake up crying, but oddly comforted.

One of my novels waiting to be edited is about dreams. I've always been fascinated by how the subconscious takes little bits and pieces from our waking lives and weaves them into a story. Sometimes I try to analyze my dreams, but most of the time I just leave them be.

November/2003 comments: Read | Post | LJ