Just some quick thoughts on last night’s lucid dream. In it my daughter and I were walking through a forest that’s close to our neighborhood. We live on an odd brink of wilderness that’s interrupted by more suburban developments that end in miles of farmland with just enough small forests between to break the wind. Back to the dream, we found a grassy clearing in the woods where lots of people were walking through. It was a forest traffic roundabout, but the circular path was low like a small valley.
My daughter spotted her best friend and went ahead of me with her. I lingered in the grassy roundabout, curious about how this valley was formed with no real hills around it. Then I was caught in a reverie considering if it was time to abandon the apartment where my daughter and I lived before I married her stepdad. This was strange considering that in real life we moved two years ago!
I’ve had lots of dreams in which I rent or buy two residences and forget to maintain the second residence I secured just in case. In case of what I have no idea. Unhappiness? Natural disaster? I really don’t know. While I lived in the apartment mentioned above, I often dreamed that I rented another dusty apartment full of dark red decor and Tiffany glass that seemed to hail from the 70’s Joker’s Wild era. All of the glassware in the kitchen cabinets were deep red. I’d visit it in my dreams in time to make a mental rent payment on it I suppose.
In reality I loved the apartment we left to be with my now husband. Even he liked this apartment, but it was not big enough for the three of us. He also already owned a nice home in a better school district. The apartment was on the second floor and had a balcony overlooking a small lake that was frequent host to mallard ducks:
This post was supposed to be about my dream, but this interlude about the apartment shows a little of how monumental that place is my memories. So many of the positive changes in my life happened there. This was where I stopped needing antidepressants, where my daughter calmed down enough to stop being a frequent flyer to the principal’s office, and where I lost more than a hundred pounds.
In the dream, I was so lost in remembering that apartment that I didn’t notice that the grassy roundabout was growing deeper by the second. My daughter and her friend had safely made their way through, and I could no longer see them. By the time I tried to walk out myself, the little valley had become as deep as an old stone quarry. How was I going to get out of this mess? Who would help me get out and back to my daughter? Would anyone hear me?
Years ago I partially fell through the roof of my parent’s old garage and no one in the house could hear me call for help. The only thing that saved me was my thigh that was still fat enough to plug up the hole. I’ve made it through lots of dicey situations without breaking any bones– shutting my finger in a garage door, a partial head-on collision with a drunk driver, a rear end collision in a Ford Pinto, diving in the shallow end, falling down stairs a least a dozen times in my clumsy childhood, etc. I used to worry that I had exhausted all the luck I’ve ever get, but last year I had genetic testing that showed, among other things, that I have many markers for strong bones.
In my dream I made my way to the very edge and some folks who looked like experienced climbers helped throw me over the edge back to safety. They asked why I doubted I could make it, and I looked back to the see the roundabout was hardly as deep as it had seemed to be while I was inside it.
Once back in the forest, I could see that my daughter was standing next to my dad and my husband at the end of the trail back to our neighborhood. Dad asked me why it was that several people mentioned to him that they had seen my daughter trick or treating recently but had not seen me with her. I told him that those people do not recognize me because we are usually together outside of school and work hours (which overlap almost completely).
I told my husband that I was finally ready to give up on the apartment, and he replied that he doubted we had the room for all the things I left there. Then we all headed to the apartment, and the dream ended as I was folding my daughter’s old Hello Kitty and My Melody nightgowns that she outgrew long ago. They were variations on the old garnments, with black boa or hot pink tulle necklines added. As I was waking up, I was wondering if I should go ahead and pack them for donation, lest she ask to get a stuffed animal large enough to wear the best of her outgrown clothes.