Last night in my sleep, I dreamt that I was in a cathedral in France. Its sounds were the grit of the floor, as it was rolled beneath feet, and a regular creaking of a pulley. It smelled like time, if time has a smell, and it was late at night. The hallway that I could see down was dark and lined with massive columns on the left. There was a man, presumably affiliated with the church, pulling on a rope and I could see him because of his candle on the floor. To the right of the man and the colums was a wall and a small alcove well above our heads near the ceiling. On the other end of a rope was a small child on a swing near the recess in the wall. I was with her, above the floor, I may have had my own swing, and she was small, about 3 or 4 years old, with short, wavy, dark blonde hair and a candle in her hand. She talked to a myriad of burning candles. I could hear her voice, but couldn't understand her words. Instead, I heard a woman's voice, one that I don't recognize, saying, "she used to talk to her mother like this when she was younger." I knew who the child was throughout the dream, it was Maman, but I was confused about her identity. A generational fog pervaded the church, and everything was without time or context. The girl, although Maman, had the potential to be anyone, including Mimi. Her identity was mysterious in that sense. I watched the girl for a while, wishing better for her, but resting in her peace and her faith.
I was an observer (even though I, too, could have been the girl). Now that I think about the dream, I feel overwhelmed by it, but such emotions were far from the dream itself - it was so tranquil. I liked the serenity of it. I don't know if it's available anymore, now that we're all awake, but I wanted to share it.
Thank you. I find this dream strangely reassuring. I don't know why. I'll have to ask my mother. I think it has something to do with being able to pass through the Spirit Door.
Okaydokay! I think dreams like this might have something to do with eating heavy stuff right before beddybye time.
I don't know about the Spirit Door, Maman. You'll need to tell me.
The dream was reassuring for me, too. Not because of content, but solely because of how it felt. It was nice (and one of the few nice dreams that I've been having lately. Solid, sound sleep has been a hard thing to come by, indeed).
I was just about Rachael's age when my mother was dying of cancer. She called to ask me to come down because the doctor had told her she was dying. She had an impacted bowel, a very common and very painful affliction of cancer patients. I left Dusty, Nathan (age 4) and Mara (age 18 months) and went to her bedside in Maryland. Mimi was not in great shape when I got there and she pleaded with me (actually, she just asked me) to stay with her through the night. So I dismissed her night nurse and stayed. Now, I had gotten up at 7 that morning, so as the night wore on, it became more and more surreal to me. And my mother was on laudanum, which is a pretty powerful opiate, so she was in one of the other 8 dimensions of time and space herself. She kept talking about the black cat on the windowsill. Now, a) Popop hated cats and b) she was in the hospital. Get the picture?
I had been reading Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, "On Death and Dying", so I had certain expectations of what Mimi might be experiencing. The author talks a lot about patients seeing a light or a door as a passageway to death. It is a good book and you might actually enjoy it, from an academic point of view. Anyway . . .
So, I had been there a while; it was late evening. She asked me to close the door. The door to her room was closed (or almost), which I pointed out to her. She said, "No, not that door, the other one over by the thermostat." So, I went to the wall and patted to oh-so-solid wall and said, "See, there is no door here." To which she responded, "Well, that's a relief." I asked was was a relief. And she replied, "That you can pass through it. It's a Spirit Door."
Well, I was a bit mystified but we went on with the evening. More weird conversations. Now it is early in the morning, that time when late at night is hard to distinguish from early in the morning. She wakes and says, "There is that door again." I was really exhausted by now. The nurses had indicated that her death might be within the next 24 hours. We had all been feeling her great pain and suffering as the cancer ate away at her bones. I wanted her to die and to no longer be in pain. I said, "Well . . .?" and she said, "It's for you, not for me!"
I must admit, at the time, I didn't think it was funny. But as the years go by, it just tickles my funny bone more and more. And after she died, we did have several encounters, so maybe she was right about my being able to pass through the Spirit Door.
I remember you telling me that story. Would you also tell us the story of Mimi getting out of Paris during WWII and meeting PopPop, please? I tell the story sometimes, but I have a feeling I have come to embellish/fabricate/forget some elements.
Oh, and Linda and Stephanie need to be clear about who they are. Stephanie - I think if you need to stick to Maman? I think Linda is Ma here, no? (I'm confused!!!)
Oh, and Linda and Stephanie need to be clear about who they are. Stephanie - I think if you need to stick to Maman? I think Linda is Ma here, no? (I'm confused!!!)
If anything, my mom will sign Momma, but she's more inclined to sign as Momma Linda. Maman and Ma aren't her. :) She's concerned about not confusing us, but I will admit, it feels really odd to have my mom be signing her first name on my blog, which is what she usually does. :)
Mara, I'm confused, too. What comments did you think were made by Linda? I sort of thought you'd recognize the players. And the Spirit Door.
Well, the first "I'll have to ask my mother" comment through me for a loop.