Alright, in the span of about 30 minutes, I had this ellaborate dream where I was
living in gross pointe michigan (did I mention the scenery and housing was gorgeous? ... okay because it was, and in great detail, but not that important)
which I've only heard about, and been to once. Anyway, for lunch I would always grab a couple sandwiches, and about six cherry mashes (I hate cherry mash...well, not really, but I prefer other candies) and I'd go to this fairly popular spot that overlooked the lake, and I figured, the only reason I did that was because I was hoping... someone would come over and join me. *big sigh*
For some reason, I could picture myself doing that in my old age.
In fact I wondered if this WAS a dream about my old age, but later I walked by a mirror, I was still young, my hair looked great (so I was older, and using rogaine :P), and I was dating a teacher. But she was terifically shy, like, it took me about a month to get her on one date, anyway, we were headed to a new moroccan restaurant, and as we were walking along,
we come to this building, the moroccan restaurant is actually upstairs, but we went downstairs... because out of nowhere my memories start clicking and triggering like a well oiled machine. I've either been to this place a thousand times in my dreams, or I've actually been here...
its an older ladies house, as you walk in, there's an old dutch puppet house, y'know with the big windows and curtains so you can have puppet shows at the door, as you walk down the steps- you look to your right and there's this strange dollhouse that she keeps her antiques in, but its tiny, like, the size of a shoebox michael jordon would use, its got lil green windows on it, anyway, right after that is hanger space for coats and such, and then you're right smack in this old ladies den, a few chairs, a screen door to the yard, the smell of cider and cocoa, a fire place COVERED in pictures of her grand kids, 2 guests, and herself, sitting around in nice comfy old unmatching chairs. She's reading the bible to an older gentleman who's losing his sight, the other guy, looked kinda like Jerry Louis, but muuuuch less abrasive, just... mole-ish. She has these creepy bulldog jowels, but the nicest smile, and poofy red hair.
That's right, red hair.
I think, this lady is representative of my biological grandmother, who I have never seen, met, or know anything about. Anyway, my first impulse is to just sit down and talk to her, because I know she knows my mom... for some reason, and I know she's a GREAT hostess, she's always got something baking, or stewing for guests because they're always popping in (IE, me, the near-blind guy, and mole man) her grand daughters (who I've seen on the fireplace) come in... they look... vaguely like my dad, a lil tan, coarse dark hair, narrow eyes... maybe my granddad's a really damned tall semi-portugese man. Anyway, we chat, but I quickly start unloading about my mom, I guess in the not distant future, she's diabetic (like her mom) and her hearts screwing up (my mom is NOT a fit woman) and I'm unburdening on this lady, because I've been so damned lonely and issolated in gross pointe that it was great to meet someone I had either dreamed about before, or had met in my old home town
and then I start crying this completely relieved... I'm lookin in the face of GOD cathartic kinda cry.
Completely sorrowful, but unburdening.
We talk, and its about at this point- right before I wake up, that I realise,
my biological grandma... is most likely dead.
But it sure was nice of my dream to give me the chance to talk to her...
*bigger sigh*... I'm just a little sad after that one, but... there's a difference between sad and depressed. Sad can be bitter sweet, brief, but also cathartic, depression latches on, holds and drags you as low as you can get.
