Skip to main content

Bad dream

I dreamed last night that I was in a car, driving all over the Southland with two of my college friends. We had been vacationing and were trying to get back home, but instead of heading north, we kept getting further and further south and west, into swampy marshy places. At one point we were looking at a map and noticed there were huge lakes and wide rivers that we needed to cross, but we couldn't determine which road to follow. We stopped for gas, but when I put my debit card into the gas pump, my card was denied. My friends were crying because we had no gas and no money and no idea how to get home. I called the bank discovered there was only $1 in the account because my husband, who was also on a separate vacation, had spent the last $200 on his own gasoline. I was frantic and angry, yelling at the banker about how my husband had spent all our money and I was out of gas and how was I going to get home now? My friends and I decided to stay in an abandoned house (which looked like the house from the Munsters, veiled with Spanish moss). We opened the front door and decided to sleep on the living room floor, settled down on our jackets as pillows, then discovered that the room was full of alligators and snakes. No one panicked, though, and none of us ran away...we just laid there repeating, "Go away. We have no money. We have no gas. We just want to sleep."

When I woke up, the radio was blasting the AM news station, a story about the markets in Asia and Europe crashing. Nothing like waking up to some doom and gloom news of the world falling apart. I have felt unsettled all morning.


  1. Just did a little Google of "alligator dream symbolism" -- check it out:

    Interesting peek into my psyche...


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Grace happens

Today Honey's roommate in room 364 at Maine Medical Center was discharged. Some other day I'll tell you about why Honey is in the hospital again, but this story is about the roommate because it's way more interesting. Let's call him Elton, because all I really know about him is he plays guitar in an Elton John tribute band and he's originally from the very northern part of England, bordering Scotland. (Or as Honey described it, "that place in England where the Roman Empire decided, nope, those Celts are crazy, and put up a wall.")

Elton was in room 364 before Honey arrived, and what struck me immediately, besides his delightful accent and soothing Liam-Neeson-esque voice, was his gentle, good-natured manner. He was going through heck from a botched surgery and compartment syndrome - pain and gore and fear of losing the use of his dominant hand - yet he spoke kindly and softly to every person who came into his room. Every time a nurse walked in, Elton gree…

Boardwalk ghosts

“Imagine this, buddy, in the middle of summer, especially near the Fourth of July. Wall to wall people, just sort of moving in and out of each other. Flashing lights. Loud music. Screams from Morey’s Pier, laughter on the swirly rides. Oh...and the cream, funnel cake, fudge, cheese steaks, pizza, fries...the smells alone would drive you nuts!” 
It’s 5:00 on the evening before his Nana’s funeral, and we’re standing in a windy drizzle on an empty Wildwood boardwalk. My mind has flashed back to the summer of 1991, when I spent a week here with my best friend. Wicked sunburn. Tandem bike adventures. Water slides. Thrill rides. A ground-shaking thunderstorm. Friendship bracelets. College guys taking showers outside. Ice cream and VCR movies every night.

Back in the here-and-now I’m trying to explain to Zippy what this place is like when it’s not October. He’s been to Rehoboth and Ocean City and Old Orchard Beach, but none of those come anywhere close to Wildwood in peak season.…


Zippy and I hiked in the woods the other day, following the icy trails around Evergreen Cemetery. The cold air stung our eyes but the sun shone warm and bright, and it felt great to breathe fresh air. As he skipped and hopped and twirled beside, in front, and around me, I felt peaceful, happy, content. Until I realized the Womens' March is in a few days, I am going, and I don't know what to expect. I've never done anything like this, except for a few years ago at Occupy Philly, which was nothing compared to the numbers they're anticipating this weekend. The Women's March will be a peaceful protest, yes, but 200,000 is an awful lot of people in highly charged city during turbulent times. I felt anxiety creeping into my chest.

"So you know I'm going away this weekend, right? To Washington, D.C. For just two sleeps. Do you know why I'm going?" I asked Zippy.
"Because you don't like Donald Trump and he's going to be the President."