To Sleep, perchance to dream.
I come from a long line of women who have premonitions. And I don’t like it.
I woke this morning from a dream I was glad to wake from. It was tiring me to the point that I felt its effects until after I had showered and forced myself into the day. Where I was in the dream I can’t say, except to say I was a long way from home, but not in a foreign country. It felt like California, but I’ve never actually been to the west coast so I can’t be sure.
For some reason I was part of a large crowd, on a line, waiting to have our pictures taken by someone important. Why, I have no idea. But it seemed to be a very important objective I needed to accomplish before I could return whence I had come. The anxiety came from the fact that I could not stop thinking about the long trip home that I knew I could not avoid. And this dream sampled another dream I have had before, of a long airplane ride in an absolutely huge jet with wall to wall carpeting and comfortable beds mixed with comfy chairs. As plush as this dream plane may be, I do not enjoy flying. I will do it, as I dislike even more the thought of being trapped or stuck without the ability to go places, but I do not enjoy the experience as a whole.
So the dream this morning, and the anxious feeling about the long ride home, was thankfully interrupted by my alarm clock. As is my habit, I spent some time trying to understand the dream as I showered and dressed and putzed around the bedroom. While drying my hair, I realize I am humming a song, Fire and Rain by James Taylor. I consider it a mournful song, having looked up what Mr. Taylor was writing about (the real meanings behind the song). It makes me sad enough that I turn it off if it comes on the car radio. (I’m a firm believer in only listening to upbeat music while driving a car)
Funnily enough, the song suddenly made sense of the dream. You see, day before yesterday my husband texted me from work to tell me that the gentleman who lives above our business had just been brought home to die. I was stunned when I read the text as he had never appeared sick to me and I had no idea he had cancer. None of us did. His name is Eric and he is a kind, friendly man in his sixties. He’s not overweight, he gets out every day. I still can’t believe it. But evidently the cancer has taken him over and he made the decision not to pass in the hospital. He’s right above me here at work. And my heart is so sad. I just have a terrible feeling that today may be his day to go home. To top it all off, as I stepped out of my house, I heard a siren in the distance.
Many years ago my brother was heading out west to Arizona to visit and go skiing with a friend of his. While he was there I had a dream of two men skiing down a hill and one being killed by a snow machine. It was during the 1988 Olympics. The two men were my brother and his friend. I was so upset I called my mother when I awoke. That same day an accident occurred at the games and the circumstances matched my dream. So did the pictures of the hill they were skiing on. I was both horrified and relieved. And then I felt bad for being relieved.
All these things probably don’t amount to a hill of beans, as they say. And I hope Eric does not pass today, though I do not wish him any additional days of pain. I want all these pieces to mean nothing. I prefer to chalk it up to the intuitive reasoning abilities of my subconscious. I hate the feeling of foreboding that these “precogs” bring me and it is even worse when something comes to fruition. It’s silly really. I know the man is going to pass. Odds are good it will be any day. If it is today, it does not mean I knew it was going to happen. I already KNOW it’s going to happen. And I certainly didn’t know he was even sick! What a great psychic ability that is. The fact is, he’s up there, alone, and dying. I don’t mind feeling the sadness for him. I think he deserves it. Maybe that’s the only reason for all of this. Evidently his wife died years ago, also from cancer. He deserves to have someone care that that he is about to shuffle off this mortal coil.
To sleep–perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause…..
Edit: Eric passed away this past Monday, August 1, 2011. Rest in peace gentle man.