1.13.2010

bittersweet

I had a vivid dream last night, just before waking.

In it, I was walking from room to room in a big, rustic house next to a lake. It was summer, and from the upstairs windows I could see the sun was shining through the trees and sparkling on the water. The windows were open and a sweet-smelling, soft breeze was blowing through. I could hear birdsong...I recognized the call, but didn't know who was singing.

All of the woodwork in the house was painted...several coats worth, the last a dark brown. There were a million bedrooms, the beds all made up with cozy patchwork quilts, big oval rag rugs covering the floors. There were bookshelves full of books, stray pairs of oars, sturdy antique highball glasses on tables...water rings on every horizontal surface, flip-flops scattered near couches and nightstands. There was that Sunday Washington Post crossword puzzle I'd been meaning to tackle! Padding downstairs to the living room.. the couch had two afghans thrown carelessly over the back, and the recliner looked both comfy and a little worn...it obviously belonged to someone who loved it well.

The house was busy! It was like everyone I had ever worked with in the summer was staying in this house at the same time, like we were doing opera waaaay out in the country, all together...staying together, living together, cooking together. I saw JF wend his way down the stairs on his way outside, and he stopped to talk to RC and some other folks on the porch.

I walked out to the porch to join the conversation. The other folks on the porch were my mom and dad, both beaming...holding court my the front steps. My mom chatting up JVE and AP about the dinner picnic later on, and my dad talking proudly about his garden. (Evidently the tomatoes were doing gangbusters this summer, which was a great improvement from last year.) JF and EM asked him to show them around, and he was pleased as punch to do so.

I woke up wishing I could go back to sleep, just so I could tag along to the garden and have a few more minutes with Dad. 

*Sigh.* A bittersweet reveille, to be sure.

My five:
  1. Crying. 
  2. Hugs.
  3. Sunshine.
  4. Buckyballs.
  5. Love that can't be contained by space or time.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

this post totally gets you a hug from me :)

(((((HUG)))))

RC

Rahree said...

thanks, RC. Your laugh was one of the things that made that dream so wonderful!