Spectres and Phantasms

Herself has always been a vivid dreamer.  It's odd.  Even though she considers her imagination to be fairly pedestrian when she is awake, her subconscious -- or whatever mechanism serves to generate dreams -- is extremely creative, bringing forth complex, multilayered storylines while she sleeps.  She is more likely to have unusual dreams if she has a migraine pending or if she is ill, although even ordinary nights can yield dreams of exceptional detail. She always remembers her dreams, too.

Once when she was very tiny (probably three or four years of age) she had a fever-induced dream that she still can recall today.  She dreamt that her bed was made of sand; there was a warm yellow sunlit glow in the room and a soft pleasant breeze.  She was digging happily in the sand, feeling it flow through her fingers and patting it into piles, and was singing a song aloud to herself.  When she got close to the end of the song, the air in the room suddenly became still, a hush fell over everything, and the closet door flew open, revealing a paper grocery bag standing upside-down with the bottom toward the ceilling.  The bag mouthlessly sang the last line of the song in a loud, proud voice.  The bag was alive.  She woke up drenched in sweat, horrified.  

Nightmares of inanimate objects becoming cognizant have long since passed away.  Adult dreams tend to have a foundation in the mundane, such as being back in college and realizing she has missed a class or not studied for an exam, or needing to facilitate a complex homework project for one of the Offspring. There are the typical flying/falling dreams that most people have, too.  Even within those dreams, though, there are tiny details - heat and cold, sounds, smells, sensations of touch - that linger in her memory after she awakens.

More powerful than the sensory elements of her dreams, though, are the vivid emotions that occasionally come into play. Dreams generating anger, fear, or despair: the feelings bleed into the first minutes after she awakens, and she must actively douse the flames of the rage, the terror, the sorrow, lest they follow her into the day.

She had one such dream last night.  It was an unusually intricate nightmare, so very real in its details and so very horrible in its content, that more than once she asked another individual, is this a dream, or is it real?  She could not tell. She finally was awoken by a sensation of panic and was able to drag herself back to consciousness.  Such a relief.  She is still haunted nearly four hours later. I asked whether describing the dream here would help to release her from its hold, but she cannot bring herself to put it into words.  In truth, she says, this dream needs only a single word to describe its horror: 

Abandonment.

Fascinating, what hides in the psyche.

Off She Goes

Herself took Offspring the First to the airport today to return to college. Alas. Such a short visit.

It was delightful to have her  home.  She was cheerful, patient, pleasant, conversational, and her usual witty self.  Wonderful.

As she watched her daughter ascend alone on the escalator in the airport, Herself was struck by how grown-up Offspring the First has become. Traveling by herself - imagine.  Making her own way in the world, one step at a time.  Exciting.  

Spread your wings and fly, child, fly. So many adventures await. I am happy for you.

James

James the guinea pig did not come out of his house to eat his lettuce yesterday evening.  For James, who heartily loves his veggies, this was a giant red flag of alarm. 

Herself took him to the emergency vet last night.  Given his age and condition, he is likely in kidney failure.  He was sent home for hospice care.  Herself knew, even before the vet's caveat that it could be hours or weeks, that the end was near.

And indeed it is.  While James took a syringe feeding well last night, but this morning, he was limp.  There is no point in trying further.  He does not seem to be in any pain - he periodically twitches and lets out a tiny piggy squeak, but it seems more like reflex than a purposeful action.  He is wrapped in a towel in Herself's lap, where hopefully he will be warm and comfortable until his last breath. 

Go towards the light, James.  Better things await you. Thank you for the time you have spent with us.

Update, one hour after initial posting:  James is gone. 
Godspeed, James.

Gray Friday

Beautiful weather today - cool, rainy.  Such a pleasant change.

It would be glorious weather for hiking.

:::daydreaming:::

Giving of Thanks

Herself speaks:

I thought to write a note of thankfulness - yet I find that when I read last year's Thanksgiving entry, it says the things that I would like to say.

I will add only:  thank you, my readers, for the opportunity to be a part of your life.  I am enriched and rewarded by your presence, and am grateful for the momentary connection we share during the time it takes you to read.  You inspire me to write, and the writing brings me hope, consolation, and happiness. 

You make my life a better place.

Anticipation

Offspring the First arrives home this evening, for the first time since we dropped her off at college over three months ago.  HUZZAH.  How we are looking forward to her visit. Lovely child, now grown-up young woman, we have missed the presence of your smile, of your humor, and of your loving spirit.  It will be a pleasure to have you under our roof again, even if for only a short while.

In the Tree

Happy birthday, my friend.