I spent the entire night last night dreaming of my second wife and family. I can only remember bits and pieces now, though I remembered everything quite well upon first waking. Should have written it down at the time. But then again … why?
The first part of the dream seemed to concern the entertaining chaos of those times. I had come from a small family--one brother when I was young, one child as an adult--and married into a large family, to a woman with five brothers and sisters and three children of her own ranging from teen to toddler. I was working full time and, in addition, we lived in the adult foster care home my wife managed, so that we had not only the three children living in the house, but also 3-4 elderly people. Additionally, we had a dog and a cat.
Every minute of the day was spoken for, and often by multiple voices at the same time. One rarely ran out of things he or she must do and just as rarely had time for the things he might want to do. He was content, therefore, with doing whatever needed to be done, and seeing if he could enjoy it all.
Although all this could seem pretty exhausting at the time, it strikes me now as the happiest time of my life, the time during which I felt most fully myself, most alive, most worthy. I reckon, in hindsight, that the more time one devotes to others, the better he feels within himself.
Moreover, I was very much in love.
So, the first part of the dream was a blur of activity, interactions with the children, Ja'nat, Jamila, and Preston, and moments sought out with my wife, Georgia. I remember this part ending with going to bed and being joined by about a dozen dogs, which made me feel on the one hand a bit outraged--what are all these dogs doing in the bed!--and on the other, rather cozy.
I awoke needing to empty my bladder, then returned to bed, fell asleep without delay, and instantly entered part two of the dream. The characters in this part had been reduced generally to three--myself, Georgia, and Preston. It was clear in this part that we were not together and it was clear that we wanted to be together. This however, for some reason was impossible. I was forbidden by something. And so throughout part two, I was wanting to remain, yet always in the process of leaving. We were inexorably moving in that direction. I remember coming to a log in a river (we were walking in a river for some reason, the water of which became increasingly deep). When we came to the log, I was aware that I could (and must) cross it, while she could not. Upon stepping into the thigh-deep water on the other side of the log, and now separated from Georgia and Preston by the log, I remembered a place nearby where the water was rather deep, in a gutter or a trench, and I mentioned that I had left something there for myself, something desirable, at the bottom of that trench--which, however, seemed too much trouble to retrieve just now.
And that's where the dream ended. There was much more, as I say, that I do not now remember. Overall, it left me with a peaceful feeling, despite its sad element. It felt nice to have spent so much time in one night with all those loved ones who were once at the center of my life. This is, by any means, the only way that I can see them now, the only way in which that life can be continued: In a dream.
The first part of the dream seemed to concern the entertaining chaos of those times. I had come from a small family--one brother when I was young, one child as an adult--and married into a large family, to a woman with five brothers and sisters and three children of her own ranging from teen to toddler. I was working full time and, in addition, we lived in the adult foster care home my wife managed, so that we had not only the three children living in the house, but also 3-4 elderly people. Additionally, we had a dog and a cat.
Every minute of the day was spoken for, and often by multiple voices at the same time. One rarely ran out of things he or she must do and just as rarely had time for the things he might want to do. He was content, therefore, with doing whatever needed to be done, and seeing if he could enjoy it all.
Although all this could seem pretty exhausting at the time, it strikes me now as the happiest time of my life, the time during which I felt most fully myself, most alive, most worthy. I reckon, in hindsight, that the more time one devotes to others, the better he feels within himself.
Moreover, I was very much in love.
So, the first part of the dream was a blur of activity, interactions with the children, Ja'nat, Jamila, and Preston, and moments sought out with my wife, Georgia. I remember this part ending with going to bed and being joined by about a dozen dogs, which made me feel on the one hand a bit outraged--what are all these dogs doing in the bed!--and on the other, rather cozy.
I awoke needing to empty my bladder, then returned to bed, fell asleep without delay, and instantly entered part two of the dream. The characters in this part had been reduced generally to three--myself, Georgia, and Preston. It was clear in this part that we were not together and it was clear that we wanted to be together. This however, for some reason was impossible. I was forbidden by something. And so throughout part two, I was wanting to remain, yet always in the process of leaving. We were inexorably moving in that direction. I remember coming to a log in a river (we were walking in a river for some reason, the water of which became increasingly deep). When we came to the log, I was aware that I could (and must) cross it, while she could not. Upon stepping into the thigh-deep water on the other side of the log, and now separated from Georgia and Preston by the log, I remembered a place nearby where the water was rather deep, in a gutter or a trench, and I mentioned that I had left something there for myself, something desirable, at the bottom of that trench--which, however, seemed too much trouble to retrieve just now.
And that's where the dream ended. There was much more, as I say, that I do not now remember. Overall, it left me with a peaceful feeling, despite its sad element. It felt nice to have spent so much time in one night with all those loved ones who were once at the center of my life. This is, by any means, the only way that I can see them now, the only way in which that life can be continued: In a dream.
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