I had a crazy dream the other night.
I dreamed my mother called me on the phone and we were laughing and talking.
Which might not sound so strange to you. After all, people dream of all kinds of crazy things—like flying through the tree tops, or showing up in high school English wearing nothing but their slippers, or kissing the president of the United States
.
But this was a crazy dream—because my mother has Alzheimer’s disease and aphasia, and it has been years since she’s known how to dial a phone. Plus, her speech is reduced to just a handful of one-syllable words, and more often than not, even those don’t make any sense.
In the dream, however, I was able to ask my mother questions and best of all, she was able to answer me. We haven’t had a conversation like that in a very long time.
I woke up happy and full of energy
A Freudian might say this had been a wish fulfillment dream. Others would say it was just random neuronal firings—no meaning.
But to me, after seven years of standing by as this disease slowly takes my mother from me, the dream was like a refund. A repayment of funds owed to a dissatisfied customer. It’s a golden coin I slip into my pocket and rub against my thumb anytime I need to be reminded: I still have something precious. Something that shines. Something to hold onto.
So when I say I had a crazy dream the other night, I mean it. For me, that dream was crazy good. It allowed me to remember the cadence of my mother’s voice. It allowed me to experience something I can’t experience when I’m awake.
ZzZzzZZzz
What kind of crazy dreams have you had lately? Share them with us in the comments section of this post!
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If you have dreams of your mother…or if you’re a mother who dreams…join me for a workshop on Mothers and Daughters Dreaming at the SOUND center in Newtown Connecticut on Sunday, May 3.
All the Snooze That's Fit to Print 
Tears. So happy you had this visit. I’d wish for something similar, and I do miss the yenta sessions I used to have with my mother: she was the one person I could share things I’d learned about this cousin or that neighbor…. but I don’t have many other fond memories with the woman who gave me birth, now lost in dementia. My heart started out broken. I don’t know what to say about it’s condition now — it breaks again each day. I take pleasure and comfort, though, in your visit with your mom. xoR
Thank you, Riva, for that heartfelt reflection. May your waking and sleeping
dreams bring you insight, comfort, and connection. ❤
Yeah, while I haven’t had dreams of my father recently, I did have wonderful visits and conversations with him in the past 20 or 25 years. I am so happy you can be with your mom now and enjoy conversations with her in our wonderful world of dreams.
Beautiful!♡