The hackneyed phrase a blessing and a curse comes to mind. This morning the curse side of the equation has the floor. I am a dreamer. I always have been. It's a rare night I do not have any number of strange, beautiful or just plain terrifying dreams. They are vivid, they are in THX surround sound with Technicolor and I remember them clearly. Ok, perhaps not THX but certainly of a run of the mill home theater quality.

Last night was a double feature and I will not go on endlessly about them because I know listening to people talk about their dreams is below the bottom rung on the ladder of excitement. Sounds like an amusement park ride that does. Come ride the Ladder of Excitement!

Dream number one is your typical family tragedy. Something terrible has happened and I awake in a dark hospital. An interesting way to begin a dream eh? Waking up in it. I often dream of sleep or dream I wake and am still asleep..that kind of thing. Anyway, there has been an accident and my grandmother is dead and my mother is in a coma. I have dreamt of the death of pretty much my entire family at one point or another and every time I am beside myself with grief. I am inconsolable. This was no different. The focus and intensity of my sorrow is almost too much to bear. The doctors tell me my mothers situation will not improve. I go to her. She is hooked up with wires and monitors. I will not accept what they have told me. I call to her again and again. I am nearly unintelligible as I weep. She stirs and moans a reply but does not open her eyes. She says things that don't make sense and I realize she's not there anymore. Her body is present but her mind is lost. I am devastated. Here I lose the dream and enter another.

Dream number two is again, a variation of one I have had many times. I dreamt my father was alive. It's hard for me to write this. He has been gone for nine years now and I dream of him regularly. For the most part, I enjoy these dreams, they are more like a visit from dad. We talk, I know he will be going soon, he is happy. This morning's dream was similar except my entire family was there and so was Jeff (he and I met a year after my father passed away). Everyone, including myself, was slightly altered, if you will. As if we'd all had a hit of E or something. We were warm and happy, we felt so much love and yet we knew my father was going to die and would only be there a short while. He was there to answer questions we never got to ask and mend relationships that may have been strained when he died. Particularly between he and my brother Jimmy. As his visit was ending my feelings of contentment turned to sorrow and as in the previous dream, my grief was overwhelming.

Here I wake. I wake with all the emotion I was feeling in the dream, then I remember my mother and the affect is two fold. I weep. Jeff holds me. Strokes my hair and back. He comforts me. Sometimes I miss my father so terribly and so keenly ~ coupled with this fresh wave of fear of losing my mother ~ it's a severe feeling to wake up to. The grief and sorrow from these dreams weigh upon me now. Loss and dread are heavy burdens for such a sunny Saturday morning.