I need pictures of her and not just pictures of her house (above)–need my media kids to get me some on the computer.
If you’ve been following my blog, you know I’ve been trying to invoke my late mother in my dreams in hopes I can ask her a very important question: who “told” the night before he was born that my son Josh would be born with Downs. A question I neglected to ask her when I had the chance because the whole thing freaked me out.
I dreamed about her a lot when she first passed, and then rarely. Since I’ve been dream incubating, she is arriving more often in my dreams. She doesn’t stay long, but she’s there. So lucid dreaming is possible.
I sleep now in her bed, in her room, in the bed in which she had a stroke, my father with Parkinson’s in the room next door. He has dreams of his own, Parkinson’s dreams that are more like hallucinations, and he yells and flails and laughs in his sleep, REM dream disorder.
Sleep, perchance to dream.
And no, it doesn’t scare me to sleep in this bed or in this room at all–it’s comforting. Unlike how I feel about my grandmother or anyone else I was close to who passed, I feel my mother inside me, or no, it feels like I am “becoming” my mother–that it’s some kind of evolutionary connection. Genetic drift. I read somewhere that there is a genetic connection between women, well between women and their offspring, but it seems stronger mother to daughter somehow. I read that every child a woman has changes her chemistry, her physiology. It’s something like that I can’t articulate.
Last night she was with my father in my dreams. She called me from their car (they had a mobile phone even back then when she was alive — my father actually had one in his car when I was growing up in the late 60’s–he was a salesman of heavy equipment). So it isn’t strange she would be calling. She would have been familiar with the technology even though she died in ’94. She wanted me to meet her at their house. I was trying to get my son Josh ready to go–this dream seems significant since she was calling me to come and to bring Josh. Like all dreams in which she shows up, it was so real, her voice, her presence, that I could feel her.
I woke before I got over there, disappointment.
It’s a sign, I think, we both may be ready to engage. Migration of souls?
I’m not sure. No, I’m really not nuts. I don’t think…
Happy Sunday. We watch the Lions in spite of it all…
Tell me about your dreams…
L.E.K. 