I dreamed that I still worked at a job I hated, with the same person in charge of me. She kept giving me vague guidelines for finishing a project, and she expected me to work while mourning my father. "But we sent flowers," she said.* This is true; it was a bouquet of black and white tulips. I had to drive a rental car, and I thought I was in a line for a car wash. Fortunately, I wasn't, and I drove past a McDonald's (thought about getting a meatless cheeseburger in case it was the last food for a while, decided against it) and to a toll booth. A large truck carrying foundation makeup pulled up behind me and tried to clip itself to my car; I wouldn't let that happen.
Then I was home, but it was a not-home sort of home. It was Easter and we decided to go to Wal-Mart. (In real life this would not happen.) I was driving with someone, like a younger version of my mother, and she said that M-43) was about to change. It went from being dotted with houses and greenery and billboards to being flat, barren, dry. We got to the Wal-Mart parking lot and a man told us that you can't shop on Easter. So we decided to go to the nursing home instead.
I couldn't find the right door to open. They were a sickly shade of mauve. Teresa opened the door for me, and I walked in, and Dad was there. He was still alive. I tried to hide my shock. He was walking around, his chest bruised and purple, and he was in good spirits. "I'm going to be around a long time," he said, echoing what he'd told me in real life two weeks before he died. I held back tears.
I tried to call Scott (beau, not brother), because I wanted him to meet my dad. "Get here soon," I said. I wanted to ride on the back of his motorcycle, but he had only one helmet, and I knew my scooter helmet had been sold years ago. I sat to the left of my father and put my hand on his chest.
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Not that dreams are that exciting to read, but this is more for me to remember it and analyze it later.
* Edited to add, this might make it seem like this is about my current job, but it isn't. It's about a job I had years ago; it still haunts my dreams.
Then I was home, but it was a not-home sort of home. It was Easter and we decided to go to Wal-Mart. (In real life this would not happen.) I was driving with someone, like a younger version of my mother, and she said that M-43) was about to change. It went from being dotted with houses and greenery and billboards to being flat, barren, dry. We got to the Wal-Mart parking lot and a man told us that you can't shop on Easter. So we decided to go to the nursing home instead.
I couldn't find the right door to open. They were a sickly shade of mauve. Teresa opened the door for me, and I walked in, and Dad was there. He was still alive. I tried to hide my shock. He was walking around, his chest bruised and purple, and he was in good spirits. "I'm going to be around a long time," he said, echoing what he'd told me in real life two weeks before he died. I held back tears.
I tried to call Scott (beau, not brother), because I wanted him to meet my dad. "Get here soon," I said. I wanted to ride on the back of his motorcycle, but he had only one helmet, and I knew my scooter helmet had been sold years ago. I sat to the left of my father and put my hand on his chest.
---
Not that dreams are that exciting to read, but this is more for me to remember it and analyze it later.
* Edited to add, this might make it seem like this is about my current job, but it isn't. It's about a job I had years ago; it still haunts my dreams.
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