Sweet Dreams

Grammy has been gone for nearly a decade now — a fact that shocks me as I just now add up the years — but her absence is still pretty tangible in my life. I think, maybe, that being pregnant has re-illuminated that absence. On some sort of innate, programmed level, I am craving the company of my female forebears. I want my mom, and I want my grammy. And I want chocolatey baked goods.

Since I started having “pregnant dreams,” I’ve had several dreams where I’m hanging out with Grammy, doing random and often very mundane things. Talking over coffee about beauty pageants. Grocery shopping. Running elaborate capers in Las Vegas hotels. (Hey, I said often mundane, not always.)

This afternoon I took a nap to stave off a looming headache, and I dreamed that I went to pick up Grammy to run some errands. As we approached my Cruiser — which has a manual transmission — she asked if she could drive, and I said yes. The entire dream was basically just us driving around. I don’t really even know that Grammy knew how to drive stick, and she was always an extremely conservative driver… but in my dream she was going like a racecar driver, enjoying the heck out of simply moving. (Throughout my lifetime, Grammy had very limited mobility due to severe arthritis and a hip replacement.) We didn’t really talk or do anything — I just sat back and let her drive.

I wish she were here with us, as strong and happy as she was in my dream, as I make this transition into motherhood and my mom becomes a grandmother. These dreams make me feel that, in some elusive way, she is…

* * * * *

Of course, not all of my pregnant dreams are lovely or meaningful or have any sort of value. Some of them are just flat-out silly.

Last night, we went to the dollar theater and saw the new Red Dawn movie. (Totally an Oscar winner!) If you’re not familiar with the story, basically it comes down to this: North Korea randomly invades and takes over Spokane, and a ragtag group of high school football players/alumni create an insurgency group and try to get their city back. The insurgency group calls itself the Wolverines, after their football team.

Well, after seeing the movie, I went home, fell asleep, and dreamed that I was one of the Wolverines. Only, instead of being insurgents, we were basically the world’s most chaotic and unmusical percussion ensemble. We’d run into public places, especially meetings and rallies, and form a loose circle. Then we’d pull out armloads of obnoxiously noisy things — everything from real percussion equipment down to trash can lids and pots and pans — and then it was just this big disruptive free-for-all. No organization, no rhythm; just a bunch of adults making as much annoying noise as possible to drown out what everyone else was trying to do. Then, when the cops or security guards would show up, we’d yell “Wolverines!”, grab our crap, and run.

My instrument of choice seemed to be a pair of long-handled bells, spray-painted the same bright blue as the French horn in How I Met Your Mother. Several of my old band acquaintances were among the Wolverines, as were most of the insurgents from the movie. I guess if you’re going to spend your night being a drum-based terrorist, you might as well do it in the company of Thor.

* * * * *

Here’s hoping that tonight I sleep well and have some more interesting dreams, whether or not I remember them. I’ve been having occasional trouble sleeping lately. That headache-avoiding nap ended up being longer than I’d intended, so I’m hoping it doesn’t interfere with my sleep tonight. If my subconscious comes up with anything good, I’ll make sure to let you know. 🙂


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