Not the way to start the week
Jun. 7th, 2004 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ksmithHad a disturbing dream last night. Make that disturbing and irritating.
It was about Dad. It began in a parking lot. I was on my way to my car, and either knew that Dad's truck was parked there somewhere or had seen it. He was sick, but was well enough to drive himself and was at a hospital undergoing treatment.
I drive home, but it's not a home that I recognize. All the rooms are large and dark, with little furniture and no windows. Beetlejuice-type rooms, with lots of grey and blue grey and odd proportions and shadows. A house party of some sort is going on, but I don't know many of the people. My editor's boss makes an appearance, and says a few words to me. Someone who I know is a Summer Intern mistakes my open tote bag that is sitting on the floor for a waste can and empties her plate into it. She apologizes while I wait for her to start cleaning it up. In the meantime, I realize that it has gotten dark and Dad hasn't yet returned from the hospital.
I know that at some point I talk to Mom, and for some reason we decide to not phone the hospital. I want to drive to the parking lot and look for Dad's truck, but I'm worried that it might be there and in that case what would I do? Then I'm worried that it might not be there, and Dad is in trouble somewhere, and again, what would I do? For some reason, we don't contact police. We just wait, and wait.
Now the kicker is that in the back of my mind, I know Dad is dead. Not that he died in the course of the dream and I'm afraid to find out about it, but that's there's no point in being in this dream in the first place because he's gone. I can't recall if I say this aloud over the course of the dream, but I know I think it, and while the thought isn't really comforting it provides an odd sense of relief. As in, there's nothing I can do anyway, so don't panic.
I awoke a couple of times over the course of the night--at one point, I let Mickey outside, and at another, I just lay there. I did fall back asleep both times, and damned if I didn't return to that same dream. It remained vague, with nothing ever resolved. Dad was missing and we weren't sure what to do about it, and we felt anxious and restive even though I knew on one level that it was a moot point.
I don't think I've ever had the heart-stopping classic nightmare. I've had dreams like this, though, vague unpleasant sensations and images that stay with me and set the tone for the day. I always glad to awaken from these things, but I don't shake them completely.
It's times like these when I need a funny movie and a stupid drink with an umbrella in it, or something.
It was about Dad. It began in a parking lot. I was on my way to my car, and either knew that Dad's truck was parked there somewhere or had seen it. He was sick, but was well enough to drive himself and was at a hospital undergoing treatment.
I drive home, but it's not a home that I recognize. All the rooms are large and dark, with little furniture and no windows. Beetlejuice-type rooms, with lots of grey and blue grey and odd proportions and shadows. A house party of some sort is going on, but I don't know many of the people. My editor's boss makes an appearance, and says a few words to me. Someone who I know is a Summer Intern mistakes my open tote bag that is sitting on the floor for a waste can and empties her plate into it. She apologizes while I wait for her to start cleaning it up. In the meantime, I realize that it has gotten dark and Dad hasn't yet returned from the hospital.
I know that at some point I talk to Mom, and for some reason we decide to not phone the hospital. I want to drive to the parking lot and look for Dad's truck, but I'm worried that it might be there and in that case what would I do? Then I'm worried that it might not be there, and Dad is in trouble somewhere, and again, what would I do? For some reason, we don't contact police. We just wait, and wait.
Now the kicker is that in the back of my mind, I know Dad is dead. Not that he died in the course of the dream and I'm afraid to find out about it, but that's there's no point in being in this dream in the first place because he's gone. I can't recall if I say this aloud over the course of the dream, but I know I think it, and while the thought isn't really comforting it provides an odd sense of relief. As in, there's nothing I can do anyway, so don't panic.
I awoke a couple of times over the course of the night--at one point, I let Mickey outside, and at another, I just lay there. I did fall back asleep both times, and damned if I didn't return to that same dream. It remained vague, with nothing ever resolved. Dad was missing and we weren't sure what to do about it, and we felt anxious and restive even though I knew on one level that it was a moot point.
I don't think I've ever had the heart-stopping classic nightmare. I've had dreams like this, though, vague unpleasant sensations and images that stay with me and set the tone for the day. I always glad to awaken from these things, but I don't shake them completely.
It's times like these when I need a funny movie and a stupid drink with an umbrella in it, or something.
