Dream Passages one

DREAM PASSAGES one

*** 6/30/2023, in an afternoon napping dream, (I’m again my favorite age of 32) but living at home again with my parents, listening to the radio, singing along with a pop song I hear. That gives me a delighting idea. I run to mom (who in waking life, at the time of this dream, like my dad, is dead), to ask her, “What if I took up singing, ran away to find a cowboy, and married him?”
Mom answered, “I don’t know. Go ask your father.”
So I appeared in front of my father, seated in his upholstered, red rocking chair. Wanting his approval, I changed the question slightly to ssk, , “Dad, would it be okay if I went to a pub to sing, found a cowboy, and married him?”
He answered, “You do whatever you want.” We both smiled, which in an instant turned to loud, joyous laughter. And during the glee, I remained age 32, but my body transformed to the way it is now in reality — at age 72, getting over paralysis and unable to stand up without assistance. Much amused by my idea, we laughed together so heartily! Until then, right in front of him, I slid straight and seamlessly down until I was kneeling on his shoes!
I had to quit my laughing. I hadn’t sat down on a floor for over 3 years, and feeling some trepidation, I asked him, “How will I get up?” Whereupon we looked eye to eye, ready to shrug our shoulders in a moment of questioning sighs…
Ending the dream.

*** 7/3./2023. Waking from a nerve-wired, napping dream in which Jim and I were in pursuit to do away with a larger than your ordinary worker ant (nearly 3/4” long, 3/8” high) as he sped over the kitchen floor, rushing away from our every attempt to stomp him with doom. I’d direct, calling to Jim, “Over to your right! Over by the stove he goes!” or, “No! He’s turned ‘round you, to the other side!” Seeming always a giant step ahead, faster than glances, a black speck at an insect’s slippery raceway speeds, to escape human swiping hands and frenzied feet; yet on, finally finding refuge away under and through a counter’s flooring crack…Leaving us to our miserable sighs, thinking about his coming back…And bringing with him numerous friends. I woke.

*** 7/4/2023, in an after dinner’s nodding off dream, I was among a celebratory holliday gathering with me, my brother Joe and a college friend he’d brought along, in the kitchen, getting some drinks out the refrigerator. Joe’s friend handedbmy drink to Joe, who handed it to me where I stood leaning, braced — a bit nervously — against the sink.
Then, as Joe was talking with his friend, I could feel my legs lising strength, which would destroy my balance to cause me to fall. Fear began to grip me: the horrible fear that I’d end up in a lump on the floor…And how? Oh, how could I be gotten back up from there?
I started calling, “Joe! Help! I’m falling!” But, he kept talking to his friend, looking away opposite me.
Again, I called to him, “Help! joe, help —“ brought suddenly aware of my soundless shouts! No, it can’t be!
I tried again. “Joe! Joe!” But, no, my throat was tight, incapable of even a gasp!
I thought I’d desperately try to recapture my childhood’s easy ability to scream, opening my mouth wide and throwing my breath urgently high through my voicebox for a stunning scream
But, nothing…No, sound came…And I was almost halfway down to the floor…Distraught and voiceless, to get attention,mI began banging my hands against the under-the-counter doors and then, leaning over to slap the floor…And, still no attention turned my way!
At this point, Jim and some others came into the kitchen. Jim looked at me and in my desperation, I tried calling him, but fear confused me as I pleaded again, “Joe!” instead of “Jim,” alliterively mixing names like my grandma always did. But, my calling was still soundless, leaving me alone with my guily
confusion, while Jim, quickly on the way to rescue me from falling, reaching out toward me, took away my fear in an instant’s touching and…I woke…

*** 7/7/2023 in the moment ending a morning’s napping dream, I held a green, baby turtle taking a short, tickling walk over the palm of my right hand.

(c) sally young eslinger 7/7/2023
Thanks be to God—-

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