The scene takes place in what may be something like my mother’s office, which is attached to a much bigger facility with several rooms and a kitchen. Several people are mulling about, preparing for what I later realize is dinner.
I am sitting comfortably in a La-Z-Boy® recliner, when several adults walk in the room with two little girls around age 2, a blonde Caucasian and an Asian. They are both dressed in onesie pajamas, the blonde in pink and the Asian in black. One of the caregivers carries the two girls over to me and seats them both on my lap. I understand that these are orphans in need of a home.
“What’s your name?” I ask the one to my left.
“Amanda,” the girl in pink answers.
“And what’s your name?” I ask the other.
“Amanda,” she says, smiling.
The blonde girl squirms to the floor, and the Asian morphs into an Asian boy around the age of 5. He is abnormally limber and performs several acrobatic tricks, the likes of which I had never seen. Everyone’s eyes are on the child as he twists and contorts and lands in a spectacularly articulated finale. Applause follows from the present onlookers.
The little boy approaches one of his caregivers and asks, “Will I ever die?”
The bewildered man says, “No… I don’t think so.” Uncertain of the proper response to such a question, the caregiver turns to me and asks, “Should I have told him yes?”
I begin to recount the story of young prince Siddhartha, and how his father carefully sheltered him from the knowledge of illness and death. Siddhartha’s first glimpse at the sight of a dying old man had a cataclysmic effect on his emotional well-being. I conclude, “Truth is best.”
I motion for the little boy to come to me. He spins and flips and stands in an impossible posture, his body behaving like elastic, expanding in length. Then he walks over to me.
“You have been given a great gift. Your body and mind can achieve many amazing and wonderful things. But there will come a day when you will no longer have this body. Most people get to keep their bodies for 70 to 100 years.”
Amanda, the blonde girl, comes in and asks me to talk about myself. “What would you like me to say?” I stand up, pick her up, and carry her into the kitchen, where my parents and others are preparing food, as she answers me by reciting a nursery rhyme all about me.
Dinner is ready. I pass the table of food and, still carrying the child, open the door to another room to check on my own kids, twin teenagers.
“Hey Dad,” Franklyn says, digging into a huge wheel of cheese. “Do you like Limburger?”
Dreamsign Catalogue:
1. Inner awareness (1/3)
- The scene takes place in what may be something like my mother’s office, which is attached to a much bigger facility with several rooms and a kitchen.
2. Action (1/8)
- she answered me by reciting a nursery rhyme all about me.
3. Form (3/7)
- The scene takes place in what may be something like my mother’s office, which is attached to a much bigger facility with several rooms and a kitchen.
- The blonde girl squirms to the floor, and the Asian morphs into an Asian boy around the age of 5.
- He spun and flipped and stood in an impossible conceivable posture, and his body behaved like elastic, expanding in length.
4. Context (1/7)
- “Hey Dad,” Franklyn said, digging into a huge wheel of cheese. “Do you like Limburger?”
WAKING NOTE:
I shared this dream with my fiancé. We had talked about possible adoption if I am not able to provide her with children. I had a vasectomy at age 26, after having 4 boys. Now, at 40, we are discussing options. Teresa mentioned that the content of the dream reminded her of a conversation she and I had with my mom on separate occasions. My grandmother is beginning to show signs of dementia or Alzheimer’s disease. My mother seems, for the first time in her life, to be waking up to the reality of death. Like her, I have never lost anyone close to me. My fiancé, on the other hand, who is only 25 years old, lost her father several years ago. Such a profound loss changes us. Without loss, there is no knowledge or experience.
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