Lots of people believe that when they find pennies in unexpected places, the coins are “pennies from heaven”: little reminders from loved ones who have passed away. I’ve read many anecdotes like this in “Dear Abby,” but I never believed. Until now.
The other day I was at the bank, sitting in a private safe deposit room, putting away jewelry before our trip to New Orleans. I unpacked several small jewelry cases from a plastic bag into the box when a nickel fell out. I thought of my father in that instant: he was a jeweler and very generous with me.
Today I was walking through Dillard’s men’s department. I passed by men’s fragrances and saw the Aramis display. My dad wore Aramis after shave all his life. I stopped to sniff the tester and was flooded with memories of Dad.
Several nights ago, I dreamed about my father. I don’t remember the substance of the dream, but I woke up repeating “He was an amazing man. An amazing man.” It still echoes in my head. I guess Dad is trying to reach out to me somehow. I just wish I were in a better frame of mind to connect with him.
Last night, WineGuy and I were fighting about bills, the a/c, and Wizard. Life is fraught with school and personal stresses again, and we’re just picking at each other all the time. Miserable. So, after WineGuy anointed every horizontal surface with his sneezes, he huffily came over and asked me if he could turn off the a/c. I was hot and uncomfortable, so I sniped, “It’s your house. It’s your air conditioning. You pay all the bills. Do whatever the hell you want.” Instead of turning off the a/c, he put on a sweater. I headed for bed a few minutes later and found he hadn’t turned off the a/c, so I did. And I told him, “Enjoy sleeping by yourself in our room because I’m going in the guest room to sleep under the fan.” Which I did. He followed me in there and complained that I didn’t put away his deodorant, his soap, and our toothpaste which I had just purchased for him. I told him to leave, and I went to sleep. Alone. In the guestroom. Under the fan . . . which felt good at the time but made my knees stiff overnight. But I digress.
Last night I dreamed I was back in the house in which I was raised. I was sitting in my bedroom and looking out over the front lawn and the street. Instead of the regular window, there was a big picture window. I remember watching the autumn leaves swirl around in the street and thinking, “It looks just like a dust devil!” Suddenly, the swirling leaves became a raging funnel cloud. My heart pounded as I saw the tornado headed straight for my window. I dove down and grabbed the carpet and realized that wasn’t safe. I panicked, trying to think of a safe, inside space to hide. The basement! And then I woke up.
Alright, dreamweavers, what do you make of this?