I Heart Indies

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Dreaming About Mur

For some idle reason I decided last night to remember my dream when I woke up this morning. I have dreams every night, but unless I make a small effort of will, I usually forget.
Last night I dreamed about Mur, which is what we called my mother.  Mur died - can it be as long as that - nine years ago.  I dream about her very often, but never really about her.  She's never really the focal point of the dream, she's just in it.
In last night's dream, I was walking beside Mur down a slightly uneven cobbled path toward a professional greenhouse where we were going to buy some plants.  The path was strewn with yellow straw, and the greenhouse was out of sight around the bend.  We had just eaten some baked chicken, and were discussing where we would plant our purchases.  I didn't actually see Mur's face, because naturally I wasn't looking at her, instead concentrating on watching my step along the path.
My sister Helen is very gifted at dream interpretation, but it doesn't take her talent for me to see how each of these elements was suggested to my unconcious.  The path Mur and I were walking exactly resembles the path to the henhouse in my backyard.  It winds around a hill planted with knock out roses and lantana, which is Nancy's and my pride and joy when it comes to bloom in the Spring.  Just recently I started some vegetable seeds in the basement, so my mind is much occupied by all things horticultural.  As far as the baked chicken, Nancy had made bar-be-que ribs last night, and I was still pleasantly full.  As for Mur's being there, well, what can I say?  The dream was pure wish fulfillment.
To walk outside, on the very cusp of Spring, before our beautiful yard bursts into color, thinking of where I will put all my tomato and okra plants, and having my own beloved Mur there, unseen, beside me.

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