Dad stopped by fleetingly in a dream the other night. At a time when I’ve been feeling alienated from family, perhaps he sensed some bit of loneliness I have yet to face.
I was under my Mom’s dining room table, and the whole place was a mess.
(That’s become less of a dream and more of a reality.)
In the dream, I’m trying vainly and valiantly to clean up another mess that had been left there. A sugar bowl for coffee, a candle, and a bunch of other things lay scattered on the floor. I scrambled to pick it all up before anyone got home. I don’t know why, I just wanted to clean it up and then get out without being seen.
Dad appeared then, just from the chest down, as I was under the table. He caught me and asked if I was feeling sick.
Then the dream ended.
Too soon.
Even in our dreams, some messes never get cleaned up.
