I have not been dreaming of a white Christmas.
My friend, Collette Johnson Schulke, pays close attention to dreams in her own journey as a caregiver. I don’t think you need a psychiatrist to interpret several of my recent dreams:
- I boarded Amtrak to San Francisco, and knew that my husband was already aboard. But the train was already so packed that there were no seats so I couldn’t sit or even be in the same train car as he was…
- I was in a city downtown and I had to get from one high-rise to another high-rise. The only way to do it was to walk a tightrope….
- I was a journalist writing a story about mining operations deep underground. I went down 24 floors and entered a hatch (like that on a ship) and saw people in suits intended to protect them. To my left, a team was doing a safety drill in which they had to jump off a ledge in a weighted wheelchair, drop the 10-12 feet to the stream bed of an ice cold underground spring, and roll across before emerging up the far sie — a test of their ability to survive without oxygen in extremely cold conditions.
Hmmm… let me see… facing extreme conditions… feeling like I am walking a tight rope… and feeling sad that there was no room for me or proximity to my husband. Gosh, what could these dreams mean?
Hospice came aboard yesterday. No such dreams last night. I feel much better about Dad getting what he needs, and me, too.