#123: Nightscapes #1

What a dream that was!

In my dream I am riding my bike Arrow. We stop and I see that I must have taken off my blue rain hat as it is laying on the ground just around the corner from where I have gotten off Arrow. I walk around looking for something but I don’t know what it is and when I turn back everything looks different and Arrow is nowhere to be found. Feeling anxious I walk faster and pass colorful buildings with onion shape roofs across from a beach.

Now I’m in a building that may be a hospital. I walk through doors, up and down corridors, into rooms where people are in meetings and exercise sessions. As I leave the building, I see a restaurant on the bottom floor with a maître d’ just inside and wonder “when did the hospital get so fancy?” I see my brother with three or four others having wine at one of the tables. They are critiquing a recent vocal performance. “The singer was off-key…sharp,” they say. My brother excuses himself and leaves the table. I am behind him and see that he sees that I see him but we don’t speak so I keep walking.

I am outside now and there are people under a sheltered roof. I try to get phone reception so I can use a map app to find where I left Arrow but the signal is iffy and I lose it when I start to walk away. I return under the shelter and a cab driver offers to drive me. I say “ok.” He has dark hair, looks strong, and I have to run to try and keep up with him. I pass by a house on the left with a garden full of colorful flowers behind a fence. Across the street is a dark and abandoned lot. The cab driver is nowhere in sight now.

I feel alone and lost.

The sun has already risen when I wake up and I have to shake off the vivid feeling of aloneness in this dream place that I don’t know. When I get up GP follows me outside on to the back deck. I feel the cool moist PNW air on my face and start to come back into myself. I check to see that Arrow is still here. Back inside, I make a pot of calming herb tea, and after it steeps I pour myself a mug, sit down, and write down as much as I can remember of the dream.

Then I take the top book from the pile next to me, open to a random page and read…

“Dreams are illustrations…from the book your soul is writing about you.” —Marsha Norman

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Song for Today

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Please click the little ❤️ below ⬇️ to let me know you were here and I’m not alone.