In Dreams

Visits from the departed

 

Yesterday was the birthday of one of my best friends from high school days, departed from this life a little more than five years ago. Every year since his death, I've paused on his birthday to send a text to his widow, and have included two of his fishing pals in the thread. Y esterday I said that I would send up a toast to him "and the nearly 50 years of memories and good times inspired in my life. He still shows up in dreams every few weeks to give me s**t and start a road trip."

Those weren't just words to make her feel good. I dream often through the year of this friend and one other mutual compadre, who died of cancer 22 years ago. Last night gave me one of those night visions. 

Rarely do my dreams have any sort of cohesive narrative, even though I have been dreaming a lot since hitting late middle age. It seems I dream every minute I am asleep, or at least it feels that way. 

But the dreams usually are just broken shards of images, sometimes with a common theme or thread, sometimes seemingly unrelated. Unless I discuss them, or ponder over them, or write them down upon waking up, memory of them fades throughout the next passing day. 

Last night's visit by these two fallen comrades was different. I can almost piece together a cohesive story from it, though the start and finish don't really begin and end. Dreams are like that. 

Reconstructing the flashes of images and sounds gives me something like this: my two friends are on a grassy hill, which from my viewpoint is framed with shrubbery, and it's obvious they haven't seen each other for a while, as they give each other a long bro-embrace. I view this from afar, first as an observer, then as a participant in the dream. The action then jumps into a structure, more cabin than house. We have a conversation during which the cancer victim denies his cancer, or is very dismissive of the disease, and I make an unsuccessful effort to get him to give forth with the condition that will ultimately kill him and seriously discuss it. Sometime during this conversation I come to the realization, through images, that there's not enough food in the fridge, and we're going to have to remedy this by a trip to the market. I then look at the photo I took of their hug (though this is the first inkling I have that I had taken a picture, and I don't know where it came from all of a sudden) and realize that I've taken the photo from too far away and wish I could re-take it. Then a flowerless cala lily takes over my field of vision, and I desperately want to get back to visiting. Alas, it's not possible, as I am no longer in the cabin, and I'm crafting a drawing of the cala lily leaves.

The dream pretty much stops there, as I awoke to the need to empty my bladder –– another wonderful welcome to senior age. Doubtless, a dream expert could analyze this thing and give me a comforting or alarming interpretation of it. 

Better to just draw the lilies and leave the meaning of the dream a mystery. 

Peace to all, and draw on your dreams.