Friday, August 5, 2011

Intense Dream

My dream last night

On the main it is about a baby that has been hurt badly that we are waiting for the paramedics to bring to my parents house. Which is in my dream more like my Aunt and Uncles house, at least it is in a different neighborhood from where they live now. In a way it is also my home. At least that is how I treat it when someone comes knocking in the middle of the night and a very respected musician enters with his prodigy, I remember feeling relieved that Angie had cleaned just before they arrived. The child prodigy is a little girl, she is an excellent singer and is there to sing while Koli plays the piano. We have to wait for Koli to come downstairs and Angie sits on the couch asking questions of the little girl while we do. I fuss around in the kitchen until he comes downstairs. Then he comes down and starts to play, there are little formalities like warming up, he can’t get the note on the piano to play loudly enough for her to hear clearly so I grab the keyboard and set it close within his reach for him to play. Then my parents come in, it is a cold winter night, the snow is just barely coming in little drifts. My mom comes down with a worried expression on her face and explains to me about the baby who the paramedics are bringing. I become concerned, but wait patiently until the baby arrives. The scene changes and I am being left in charge of a baby who is sitting in a very dirty diaper, the diaper is spilling out onto its clothing, my children are pulling on my sleeve asking if they can play with the baby, I’m too distracted to address them, I pick up the baby who all the time is getting dirtier and put him in a bathtub washing away the detiris,the water keeps running and running, overflowing and I cannot control it. Then the baby’s mother steps in thanks me for taking care of the baby while she went to get diapers, turns off the water and I am relieved and wash my arms off. Then the paramedics arrive with a baby so weak and feeble that they are not sure if it will live. They set the baby down on the floor and ask that people be careful as they walk around him. I become concerned about feeding the baby. I contemplate breast feeding but realize that I no longer produce milk, so I volunteer to go to the store to buy formula. My mother looks relieved as she didn’t seem to know what to do. So I head out and start walking down the side walk. I’m heading towards what used to be Albertsons and then have this thought that nothing has been right in my life since Albertsons became Ridleys. I start to cry copious amounts of tears, they are pouring down his face as I walk. I encounter a bus that pulls up in front of me which is full of old people and I hide my tears from them. The next bus is full of young people, they see the tears and laugh at me. I notice chalk drawings on the side walk, intense, full of odd themes and I step around them into the street. I recall that the Yukon is parked up ahead and keep walking towards it. The chalk drawings continue and I am somewhat fascinated and somewhat repulsed at them. I remember wondering who could create such atrocities, then I look down a side street and there is a person crouching next to the sidewalk, almost laying on it, covered in rags and they furtively cover their face as I pass. Then I turn into a house which is sort of my parents house, again, and start looking around for something for the baby to eat. I found myself shifting through stacks of books, and picking off of the shelf organic cleaning chemicals that I had left at my parents house and placing them together on the top shelf. I recall in my mind the baby and feel some desperation to find something for it to eat but feel an urgent need to gather these useful cleaning chemicals together. I’m just lifting a stack of books to place elsewhere when my brother Evan comes and stands near me. He asks if he could have an hour of my time sometime and I agree to this. Then I come to the formulas and I am contemplating the ingredients, repulsed at them, I feel a longing to breast feed the baby again because I feel that would be the only true nourishment for it, at the same time I feel a sense of oddness about the idea because it’s not my own baby. I think about taking an herbal supplement to start milk in woman who have previously breastfed babies but who no longer do. Then I wake up.

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