Signs & Portents

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.

DreamcatcherSeveral 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?

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8 thoughts on “Signs & Portents

  1. My favorite dream interpreter always looks at it from the viewpoint that your dreams are your subconscious you trying to send you a message. Not a prediction of the future in any way, and that people in your dream do not literally represent those people, but aspects of YOU that you see or are reflected back by those people. So, given that there was no one else in this dream, and given what you just wrote about in you OWN life..seems that dream was quite literally reflecting the turmoil you are feeling – out of control and distressed over things which have threatened your sense of peace and security.

  2. I’m no dreamweaver from your last post “On the Radio” had me thinking of this song:

    http://www.reginaspektor.com/index2.html click on the “Begin to Hope” tape and forward it to “On the Radio”.

    so I thought I’d share my newest favorite singer with you, Regina Spektor.
    If nothing else maybe it will make you feel better?
    I can send you the mp3 in email if you like πŸ™‚

  3. i dunno. when things get really, really stressful for me (oh, like NOW), i often dream about my gram or my gramps, who are both gone. or i dream i am a little girl. i think we reach for love and comfort and simplicity in so many ways; and i think some of the memories associated with those qualities are hard-wired into our brains, there when we really need them.

    i think what proved the point for me was when my gram, completely dissembled by the loss of my gramps and lonely, was in the grips of dementia. suddenly, she was talking yiddish (as she did as a girl) and really *was* a girl again, living on the lower east side. for a tough time, it must have been a happy time for her nonetheless. she was finally happy again on the outside.

    so the comfort thing. some people find it while they are awake, some people find it in a bottle, and some people find it in their dreams.

    jmo πŸ™‚

  4. Hmmm…. I am not going to read the other comments before you respond. I think your father was your touchstone. Losing him from this world has made you feel adrift. The nickel, the Aramis, the dream… that is your subconscious reaching out to you, letting you know there are parts of your father that are still here, most of them within you and a part of you.

    As for Wineguy, he was just being an ass. I suggest you draw a moustache on him with that toothpaste the next time he’s sleeping.

    And the tornado dream? That’s you, adrift, having lost that one constant male figure in your life that could always make everything OK. Your momentary turmoil with Wineguy caused you to feel unloved, unappreciated, and unprotected. You longed for your dad.

    Love you…

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