Most of the dreams I have are forgotten within moments after waking. The more intense ones may last a couple of hours before completely vanishing from my memory. But the one I had last night has stuck with me all day and I think I should probably write it out as best I can.
So, it starts with me and my wife at a concert or a movie, some kind of function that requires a theater. There is an intermission and we leave each other to go to the restroom, etc. I'm standing in a stall relieving myself and there's a guy in the one next to me who is controlling the flow of his urine in such a manner that the splashes made by the stream actually have a rhythm recognizable as a well known song. I'm amazed at this talent and try to compliment him. He just looks at me with sort of a condescension in his facial expression. Obviously he has no desire to talk to me. I say a few things on the way out, all of which are completely random and have nothing to do with the situation. Instead of saying "goodbye" I say "Be-bop-a-lula, baby!"
The program starts back up but the wife is nowhere to be found. I look all over for her and ask total strangers if they know where she's at. I start to panic. Next thing I know I'm in a car with my father driving. I start to grill him about where my wife might be, convinced that he knows. He says nothing...in many of the dreams I have of him he does not say a word. I get really, really pissed off that he won't tell me. I get mouthy and disrespectful, but he just looks straight ahead and drives.
Then I realize that wherever he is going is where my wife will be. It's not too long after that revelation that we pull up to a house and he gets out, walking to the door. I do the same and all of a sudden I know where I am and that my wife is probably not there. It's my mother's house.
I walk in and there she stands...she didn't look like my mother in the dream, but I knew this was who it was. I could not help but believe that dad had taken me to her because she didn't have long to live and I just broke down, sobbing "mama, mama, mama" with my head on her shoulder. Don't know where my dad went off to, but it was at this point that I woke up.
I lay in the bed almost as if I'd had a nightmare. I tried for a long time to put the pieces together and figure out what it all meant. The easy answer would be that my relationship with my mother is for all intents and purposes non-existent and this was a precursor to the inevitable time of reckoning. Then I thought there must be some reason that dad was the one who drove me there. They had been divorced for many years before his passing but she was always his true love. His demeanor was almost solemn as he took me there. Then there's the connection between losing my wife and finding my mother. There's got to be some kind of Jungian explanation for that. As for the pissin' musician, who knows why I still remember him. Maybe it's because he was so talented.
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