The Land Of The Mind, Unchained By Sleep

I did not get up until almost ten this morning which means that my maternal grandfather is in heaven, weeping over my sloth and probably Jesus, too.

But enough about reality.

I want to talk about my dream which I'm sure was punishment for sleeping too late because it was one of those dreams where you wake up with wet eyelashes and realize you've been crying for hours and this is not what they refer to when they refer to a wet dream but some of us, that's what we get. Tears not passion.

Oh well. There was plenty of passion. Just not the sexy type although in this dream, everyone was pregnant. I was pregnant, a woman I've known forever was pregnant. My mother was pregnant. And a huge flood came and we had to flee (to the island, of course, where all would be safe in a flood, right?) and I was living there with many family members and I became a bitch and told the woman I've known forever something that I don't remember but it contained curse words and she was hurt.

And we were all traveling in Mexico for awhile and that was horrible because my beautiful Cozumel had changed and was no longer beautiful but filled with ugly things and then I was back in the tiny trailer I was living in with all the family members and suddenly, I found out that my house, my house that I love and which I had believed to be swept away, was fine.

Fine.

I came back and yes, it was whole and sturdy. I laid on the wooden floor and wept with the betrayal of all those who had lied to me and then Mr. Moon's parents showed up and I was so glad to see them but then I knew they were going to have to die again and I wept some more over that knowledge.

And Lynn was there and she was wearing purple.
Or possibly blue.

What IS it with these dreams lately? Too many mother images and too much traveling and too much weeping and now floods, too?
And lying and betrayal and sorrow and more weeping. And people whom I love but who are dead?

Last night we went to Havana to hear Lon and Lis play and they did almost an entire set of Lis's songs and perhaps they were the key to the land of this dream. Not that her songs are nightmarish in any way, but they are dreamlike and they float through my ears and into my heart, her voice rising like an angel's and now that I think about it, when I went to sleep last night, I had the image of an angel at my breast, and I could feel the soft strength of its wings, folded as the angel rested there in my embrace.

And now it is daytime, really and truly, and Mr. Moon is shoveling dirt out of the back of his truck and I should get out and pick up branches and sticks which a real wind blew down and get my feet into the dirt of this place and ground myself, literally.
Because the dream is still here and I am not quite sure if I am there, in that land where all the mothers were full of babies or here, where the babies are raised and my house, my beautiful house, needs my attention and really, there is no reason to weep.

Not for me, anyway.

None at all.