I have often been asked (and have asked others), “Do you dream in color?” I have never had a satisfactory answer. Last night I clearly had mine.
It was a “house” dream. My house but clearly not this house but in it I nevertheless felt at home. I was not alone. We (I should say “I” because Elaine was not in the dream) had guests. Who was there? There must have been 20 people. I don’t recall any of the Lee progeny being present (or absent) but my sister Barbara was there and her teen-age daughter Naomi and Elaine’s sister, Louise. There was some event -- perhaps a wedding or an anniversary party or a reunion and a lot of traffic on the stairs.
I was trying to find something (I always am, of course) and was scurrying through the house – all three floors – to check the rooms where it (whatever it was) might be. That made an interesting tour of the place. I don’t recall the details but I know that on the third floor I looked in the bedrooms and the gaggle of girls staying there had teen-age clothes scattered messily all over. It looked not unlike it used to look upstairs in our house during our family’s high school years. I met sister (not to be confused with daughter) Barbara and her eyebrows were raised as mine were (a family trait, I think) at the mess and she smilingly told me she had talked about that to Naomi who had retorted to her mother, “Haven’t you ever lived in a dormitory?”
Naomi meanwhile was getting ready for the prom-like big night and later emerged in the dining room – or maybe it was the kitchen – all bedecked in a smashingly beautiful yellow dress with colorful squares of other colors descending down the front like a priestly stole. With her beautifully smiling face she was the picture of a magazine model (I think I remember she once did model for some advertisement.) Yes, I am sure at least that was in color.
Then I found myself outside, attracted by something in a bush outside the back patio, covered with lovely very white snow. (It snowed yesterday here.) I noticed within the bush some tiny shining light and I wondered what the source of it was. So I went close to it, knelt down (no longer aware of any snow) and peered in. There was a lovely little bird, plump and downy with beige and brown feathers. It flew away. Then as I turned to my left, there, just inches from me, was a strange large bird, almost completely round like a basketball – containing both head and body covered with a kind of green plaid feathered blanket and a bright yellow beak extending about three inches. There were two tiny sad looking eyes. As I looked it seemed to lose its balance and rolled over. Then to my right there was another strange fowl. It seemed to be a cross between a goose or swan and an ostrich with a red and yellow head, an ugly face which was glowering at me. I knew I had to hurry to find Louise to identify it.
All of this between my 7 a.m. trip to the bathroom and more sleep until 8:30. I never, hardly ever, remember dreams. I hardly ever sleep that late. So I needed to write this down in order not to forget because even if I have a vague recall of my unconscious nocturnal visions, they always seem to fly “…like a dream dies at the op’ning day”, to quote Isaac Watts.
What does this mean?
February 6, 2001
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Page last modified by Richard Lee on 11 July 2006 |
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