Dreams of Regret

Dreams have themes. For me, a recurrent theme is struggle under pressure. I'm trying to get something done and find myself thwarted at every turn. Throw in the bizarre, a commonality of most dreams, and a non-nightmare can seem nightmarish. The disturbing threads pieced together make for a crazy quilt which sticks with me well into the morning. Even more mysterious to me is that unless written down, the intensity of the dream dissolves quickly, like a fog that lifts exposing sunshine.

Last night's foray into madness bubbled into consciousness as I lay in bed guzzling coffee. My mind was focused on blasting out what is now day #4 of a morning migraine; strong coffee will sometimes do the trick. Suddenly, I recalled the dream. The theme was different; I'd say more along the lines of: regret, for a dumb decision.

from the movie, The Road

Dusty dream, black and white, like Cormac McCarthy's The Road
Laura is getting married but we aren't attending the wedding
Even her fiance who resists ceremony is not attending, choosing to spend his time with Denny and me as we drive and walk about a landscape unfamiliar, exploring on foot and in a car
Our reasons for being elsewhere on a such an important day remain unexplored
Free of concerns we move forward
There are animals, small creatures, who may be our pets
Out of control they frolic about eating wet tissues
My guilt for not being present at my daughter's wedding surfaces, gaining strength
Why did I make such a foolish decision?
I'm overwhelmed with sadness. The fiance and Denny seem oblivious
We stumble upon an ancient woman in a wooden shack
A wise soothsayer resting on a shabby chaise
She attracts these small animals of ours; they nestle into her sagging neck
I explain my grief to her; she has nothing to say
Nothing that will explain why I am not standing with my daughter on her special day
Regrets. Regrets that cannot be undone


Ms. Laura: I promise I'll be the proud mother at your wedding. Who knows where this dream came from? Weddings  must be on my mind.

What Will This Week Bring?

I'm grateful for a part-time work schedule with Mondays/Tuesdays "off". Most Mondays I enjoy hearing the garbage and recycling trucks pull up mid morning to drag off a week's supply of castoff  "stuff". Once the trucks drive away, I design the rest of my day. Sometimes there's not much on my plate (ahhhh...) and other Mondays I run around with a list of errands and phone calls and a visit to Mom and Dad.

This Monday I find myself at the bedside of my Mom, hospitalized since last night. If I were superstitious, I'd be freaking out about her room number. This is the same room my father-in-law was in 12 years ago when he died of leukemia. For some reason she landed a bed on the Oncology floor. Sitting here brings back some powerful memories of E.J.'s rapid onset illness and his quick but relatively painless passing less than two weeks later. Like wisps of the past, I imagine my then 10 and 12 year old children at his bedside, comforting their grandfather, drawing him pictures, and trying to make him smile. I can see my husband's mother and two sisters coming in and out of the room. I remember the IV infusing , the television set to a golf match, and the food trays that came and went without much being eaten. He died in this very room.. How weird it feels to be  here, sitting beside Mom. There are over 200 beds in this hospital. Why this one?

We don't yet have a firm grip on what's going on with Mom. I'm trying to tread the fine line between knowing "a lot" and letting the doctors in charge do their jobs. I'm pretty good at that. I think. People are rallying around to support Dad who's very worried about his life partner. I'm far more concerned for him, truth be known. Mom's situation is out of my control.

I'm wondering how this week will play out. With big weekend plans to fly to Chicago for my niece's wedding, I'm hoping that whatever ails Mom is simple, straightforward and that she'll be able to get back home so that leaving for those few days won't create havoc in my Dad's life. I'm cautiously optimistic.

With the gray, rainy skies lightening and the sun starting to shine outside the hospital window, I'm wondering how long I should stay here. Mom is sleeping. She's interacting very little. Maybe I should head up north to see Dad. Decisions.

I'm weary. I'm sad. I'm frustrated. But at least I'm not crying today; that got worked out plenty well last evening.

What will this week bring?

Anguish of Grief

Mom's in the ER; to be admitted later this evening.

The anguish in my Dad's face as the emergency medical team strapped Mom to a gurney and prepared to wheel her into the waiting ambulance hit me like a spear through my heart. I broke down. I cried for him, not for my Mom.

After she left I spent a few precious moments with Dad, kneeling at his side, my arms around him.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy; it's going to be alright."

"I'm so sorry, sweet Kitty, so sorry for you."

He was comforting me as much as I tried to offer comfort to him. 

I promised to call him with the news from the ER. We don't really know what's going on but there are clues and leads to follow. Will there be a fix?

I have an ominous feeling. I think my Mom is close to dying. Do we ever know? The doctor in me says NO but the daughter in me says YES. This is it; the end is coming. Soon.

I'm sad to lose her. But, my sadness is acute, painful, and raw edged for the man who'll be left behind. He breaks my heart, his vulnerable face, the quivering chin, and the tears that flow from a place deep in his being. I would do anything to fix this un-fixable state. But, it's not to be.

Bibliophile's Dream Come True

I'm just back from my first visit to the annual fall Friends of Seattle Public Library book sale. For many years I've wanted to check this event out, having heard wonderful things about the selection and low prices. Today was my chance and I've come away enchanted, impressed, and laden down with two bags of books. Most titles sold for a dollar. Fiction, biography, books on the craft of writing, and some old classics found a place in my stash. After two hours and aching arms from carrying an ever heavier load of books, I decided to wrap up and drag my loot to the car. My only misstep?  I forgot to bring a camera. The photos would have been fabulous.

I arrived just after 9 AM and there was already a long line stretching all the way around the building. Once the doors opened things moved quickly. The enormous interior of the building was a book lover's paradise. Nothing fancy but aisle after aisle of books divided by category, laid out in cardboard boxes on tables, and people everywhere looking for their personal treasure. The sight of so many book lovers (and books) under one roof was glorious if not a bit frenetic.

from the Seattle Times

Ten, of many, observations about the Book Fair:

1. I love hearing people talk to each other about books they've found; like unearthed gifts. "Have you read this?" "I've heard this one is fantastic."

2. People bring more than bags or boxes to carry their books; I saw people with rolling suitcases, heavy-duty opaque trash bags, and small shopping carts. Hard core shoppers, these.

3. There are some book titles that appear and re-appear endlessly. I saw dozens of copies of Pigs in Heaven (Kinsolver), Stones From the River (Hegi), The Mermaid Chair (Kidd), The Lovely Bones (Sebold) and Atonement (McEwan) mixed in randomly, popping up everywhere.

4. I was amazed pouring over the paperback fiction books how many titles I had read and in many cases own. It felt good to be reminded that I read. A lot.

5. Wow! There were hardbacks looking as good as new that I've either read or own that were published in the past year; all for a buck!

6. People weren't pushy. Polite and nice. Seattleites.

7. Despite the mass of people, things were organized. I love organized. Even paying and parking were organized.

8. If you are looking for a specific title, finding it may be a challenge.

9. It's easy to become overwhelmed by the presence of 200,000 books for sale but it's heaven nonetheless.

10. There's some kind of magic holding a book in your hands; the anticipation of the read, the wonder, the hope that this one will "blow me away".

from Friends of  SPL website

Quote for the Day

"When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child."
 
Sophia Loren

I'm pondering this quote found randomly today. Is there such a thing as randomly?  Sometimes I think not. 

This quote resonates even though my children are grown. The "thinking" may be different when they're older and on their own but the part of never being "alone in your thoughts"....well, that  hits the proverbial nail on the head for me. If I am alone in my thoughts it is never for long. A force pulls me back to wonder, or consider, or fret as the case may be, about who, what, when, where, and why. Children.

This does not happen to my spouse, or so he says. I'm not sure that I believe him though. This may not be a universally female trait; this "thinking" about one's children. All. The. Time.

OK, that's enough rambling.

Eating on the Couch: Coming Full Circle

Years ago when it was just D and me at home, we ate many a dinner sitting on the couch in the living room. Sometimes the T.V. was on, sometimes not. A dinner around the kitchen or dining room table was unusual and felt weird somehow. Once the kids came along, we ate our meals at the table. In fact, eating anything while sitting on the couch was discouraged but done anyway. No wonder we had to replace our sectional sofa last year; spills of milk, sticky juices and soda mixed with remnants of snack food destroyed the fabric after years of the kids sneaking food and drink on to the furniture while watching television or doing homework (homework? huh?).

Life has come full circle.. As empty nesters, he and I are once again migrating on to the family room furniture to eat meals; not all but more and more all the time. We are going back in time. And, we don't spill!

I'm loving it.

Gayle King: Interviews - Susan Casey on Waves that Topple iEverything/i

Gayle King: Interviews - Susan Casey on Waves that Topple iEverything/i

After clicking the link above, scroll down to the audio portion near the bottom of the page....Gayle interviews Susan Casey; very interesting.
Enjoy!