Dreams
Portion of Pablo Picasso's Factory in Horta de Sant Joan
”Dreams are the touchstones of our character.” — Henry David Thoreau
A haunting dream perturbs me in my sleep.
In my dream, I am an awkward teenager. I am aware of someone having a crush on me, as I’ve been told. I sit in the busy cafeteria. Like in a movie scene, this cute guy walks by and doesn’t look my way. Haze. Along some hallway, we pass each other by, on a rainy afternoon, he with the green backpack and black umbrella (yup, I dream in color!) and I sans the umbrella, neither of us say a word. In the classroom, amidst the entire student ruckus, in between classes, he pops from under the teacher’s desk and gives me a wink. Gets hazy. Then it’s my birthday, under the shade of trees, behind the school stage he hands me red roses, not the long-stemmed-store-bought type, but the freshly-cut-from-the-garden variety. A bunch of friends sees us but they don’t really see “us”. I am in school uniform. Gasp! A cream top with Peter Pan collar, short sleeves and a cute ribbon same color as my rust skirt. He hardly ever looks my way. I hear all sorts of sounds, laughter, singing, voices, sheiks of excitement filling the air. Even hazier, we danced at the prom in silence. Not a word. Still in my dream, I just see his face. He barely smiles. I know he is a decent person, an evolving man of character. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I wait for him to say hello.
This is where the dream ends.
When I wake, I shrug off the feelings. Although questions linger in memory “Did I subconsciously will this dream in my sleep?”, “Am I just re-living experiences of the past?”, “What does it all mean?”
Nothing, I suppose. Considering I know the face in my dream. Hmm, such is life. I think my dream just mirrored what my reality is. Without a doubt, in many of my friendships, I am mainly the one making the connections. I write (letters, greeting cards and postcards), I call, I talk and I text. I reach out, period. Some friends I do not hear from in long intervals. Not a peep, squeak or boo! Yet, they are my friends.
Someone sent me this sort of e-mail chain letter recently. Not that I believe it but I found it utterly amusing. Here’s excerpts: “Did u know…when u dream about a person that person went to sleep thinking of u?? did u know… when the person u like looks at u & then looks down they’re crazy about u..??” Then it goes on with the “now make a wish!!!!! if u don’t forward this u will have bad luck in love….if u send this in the next few mins to 5 ppl ur wish wil come true in 1 week,” And so it goes. Thank goodness this was a recent missive and I know for sure, it had nothing to do with the current state of my rosy love life.
I’m still at a loss with dreams. I do like what Marsha Norman stated and I quote, “dreams are illustrations, from the book your soul is writing about you.” For essentially in my dreams I am the main protagonist. I laugh, I cry, I smile and I feel. I wake up bewildered. And yet in my dreams, I am not too far off from my usual self. Sweet Dreams!
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