Some dreams have no anchor in reality. The only familiar part of this dream was the blue china pattern on my nightgown.
I was standing at a window looking out across a field. It was the kind of field that had trees bordering a quarter mile of land with a dozen horses grazing. As I stood looking out I thought how odd it was that the horses were grazing under starlight. Did horses do that?
I then noticed the window I was standing at was a seamless picture window and yet there was an outhouse a short distance from the house. I turned from the window to the room when I heard footsteps behind me. There were glowing embers in the fireplace across from a large four poster bed and a man wearing a plaid flannel shirt and black jeans.
“It’s going to be ok you know?” his face was sad and his eyes were glowing with compassion. I nodded and turned away. I felt sad but had no event to connect the feeling to. I felt numb.
I sat down on the bed and looked at my lap where my hands rested. I was wearing a white flannel night gown with blue flowers. A tea set. My nightgown looked like a china pattern I’d seen on a tea set somewhere.
My hands were old and thin. I could see the large veins pulsing blood to and from my fingertips. “Mom? Please say something, we really need you to be ok.”
I turned to look at the young man wondering why he had called me mom when the most beautiful girl I had ever seen walked in the room. My daughter.
She was taller than the man she walked up to stand beside. They held each others hand as they came to stand in front of me. She had tears in her eyes and her mouth was drawn tight as if she were afraid to say anything. She reached down for my hands to draw me off the bed. “I love you mom.”
She was pregnant. I didn’t notice when she walked in but it was in the middle of the hug she gave me. That’s when the event raced in from the past and matched itself up with my sadness.
They had brought me here to die or rather the man lying in my bed was dying. They came to help me bury part of myself. The biggest part of myself. The part of me that had barely been able to breathe in months. The part of me that would stop breathing eventually.
I turned around to look at the man lying in the bed asleep. Always asleep these last few days. I looked at my daughter and I smiled as the priest walked into the room.
I left them and walked back to the picture window as the sky gained one more star.