Just for something different, here is an account of a dream I had in October 1998, which I came across this morning. I think I wrote it within moments of waking up, which is why it makes sense in that nonsensical dreamy way, and why there is anything written at all (dreams are slippery memories to recall, that’s for sure).
I dreamed –
A mother (Donna Reed-like) and her baby lying dying in a bed trapped underwater past the tunnel past the Christian bookstore in the mall – they went down there and while they were there someone blocked off the road in the tunnel. Cars come driving through, screeching to a halt where the road seems to end underwater just next to the bed where mother and baby sleep. No one really helps them. I go to rescue them. I am not their husband and father, I am me. Yet their husband and father looks for them, and I am with him but he isn’t there. I find them looking peaceful but I know they’ve been there for hours and I know mother has made several trips out of bed to find help, but was always drawn back to baby and sleep.
Somehow Nathan [my newlywed husband] is tangled in the dream, too. He and two other college men got in a fight over how many fractions of an inch something measured (a pillow fight, not a fistfight). But Nathan is hurt from the fight somehow, and the other men are apologizing, and I am rushing to find him and nurse him.