I decided to wait a day before posting this blog so as not
to confuse readers with my real birthday July 11. This was my dream on the
night of July 10.
My birthday had just passed. A friend (don’t know who) and I
were down town Raleigh years ago, new friend, old Raleigh. We went up the
elevator in Hudson Belk for a sale but the only things for sale were Christmas
items in July. I wanted to buy them and figured only my daughter would not be
surprised to see Christmas trees on my mantle in August, but she would be
surprised when they were red, white and blue. I told them to deliver the trees
and when I got off the elevator found myself eating dinner with a guy I never
knew and still don’t. We had the best talk but I apologized to him for my talking
too much about the wedding that only happened two months ago. Then I noticed
his hair was dark and thick and his eyes were dark too. People are surprised
when I tell them I can see in my dreams, not perfectly, but with the vision I
had when I could see best. Anyway, this guy was PERFECT! That should have clued
me in that it was a dream. Instead I worried terribly because he didn’t seem to
realize I am seventy-two. He asked me to have dinner the next night and I was
screaming at him as I got pushed out of the dining area that he didn’t know my
name. My friend bounced back in the dream. “I met a guy,” I told her. “I know
you did but you are seventy-two,” she said as she pushed me into a door for a
Bible study. People were DOING crafts and talking about other people. “This
isn’t fun,” I said as I suddenly could not see well anymore and begin fumbling
around the room for the elevator. The room became the elevator and suddenly
threw me out onto the street. “Run!” my friend Margaret yelled at me. “You are
late for work!” Give me a ride,” I begged as I climbed into her trunk. My
computer was in there. The trunk turned into the attic where I once typed
before my son was ever born and there were other women typing in there. “You
are fired!” my boss told me. “You can’t fire me I am seventy-two and I don’t
work for you anymore.” Then Margaret was leaving to go back home to New Mexico.
“You can’t leave,” I said, “you never even got out of your car.”
ALARM!
I almost NEVER remember dreams, so I decided to write this
one quickly before I forget. A guy? That is the last thing on my mind, honest!
So now the truth is known; my overactive imagination when I am awake is even
more active when I’m asleep. Maybe one day I will remember some of the
beautiful songs I often hear while sleeping. Goodness, I hope you don’t try to
interpret this dream for me; I honestly think it means I am seventy-two.
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