Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Maybe Tonight I'll Dream of MCA

When my Aunt Sue died, I dreamed of her all the time. I haven't had a Sue Sue dream in years (I can't believe it's been 13 of them), but I just figured when I lost someone close to me, that would be their way of living on in my mind. When my Pup died, my hero, and favorite person in the world, I hardly ever dreamed about him. And I can't attribute it to anything. I suppose I had hoped to, but maybe I was scared to relive the difficult times and I was protecting myself? And then I wonder if Aunt Sue was on my mind so much more because she was so young, and her illness was so sudden, and there was more of a sense of unfinished business? Like I was still holding on subconsciously because nothing made me think it was OK to let go? Pup had lived a relatively long life, and the last few years of his life were sadder and sadder as his Alzheimer's advanced. The end, when he had his stroke, was nearly a blessing. I had been there to witness. And maybe that's how I made my peace. Again, who says dreams ever have to mean anything, or that I could have any control over them?

Last night I had my first Nik dream. On one hand I can't believe it took so long, but on the other I have a feeling a door has been opened, and I'm going to be seeing a lot of her in my sleep, in that way where I realize it's her and then remember she's gone and it makes no sense, but then all the sense. Her cameo last night came when I was going to get in a car with a bunch of people and a song came on that made me think of her and I was wistful, saying to the person next to me that it was hard to hear things I would have shared with her. And the person of course was Niki. And she didn't say anything. And I woke up maybe then, maybe a little afterward. I didn't remember the dream for quite awhile, and recalling it, I didn't know how to feel, I guess mostly glad to see her again.

Anyway. This morning HR was being a crankster about something, and the Beastie Boys were playing so I scooped him up and started bouncing around with him and it turned everything around. I don't even especially like this number in the scheme of the Beastie oeuvre (frankly, nothing from "Licensed to Ill" did much for me after junior high) but we really got into it and made up a chant that went, "Funk-Y! Monk-EY!" and marched around yelling it and there may have been percussion instruments involved and the point is, I'm having a pretty great day, thanks for asking, but that moment at 9 a.m. has yet to be topped. So thanks again, music, for what you do for my life in mysteriously helpful ways.

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