Saturday, September 7, 2019


        I awoke to find that I was not up on the edge of a steep roof and afraid to move for fear I would slide off. My legs didn't want to work, there was nothing to hold onto, and the dilemma was that I thought I saw my daughter Sheri down below, which was impossible, because my daughter Sheri had died 6 years ago.   I looked all around the dark tar shingle roof and could find nothing to hold onto. I looked down, and the drop was about ten or twelve feet to the ground, but seemed farther. I thought if I dropped, at my age, I would surely bust something. And I was in enough pain every day as it was.
    I certainly do not know how I even got up on that roof. I was at a site directed by a woman with whom I was in dispute over something, but she was in charge, and there seemed nothing I could do to get my own way in the matter, or get me out of the seemingly hopeless mess I'd somehow gotten into. Since I don't remember now what it was, I can't tell you why or what. You can't detail what you don't know.
       I think a lot of this has to do with the Netflex Canadian series (Heartland) I am currently glued to but increasingly disgusted with.  The women are conniving, selfish, in charge types who can't bear to not have their own way. The young girls are bossy , rude, overbearing. The poor guys in the series haven't a chance. Hence the blonde In-Charger gal in the dream.
        Prior to my being on the roof, I'm not sure of all the events, except that I had been at odds with this gal all during the construction of corrals, poles, building, in my search for something or someone, and I haven't a clue what I was doing on the roof, or why, when the place the house was to stand was under construction, I could even plainly see to the left of myself,  looking down and behind me, the floorboards below and the unfinished framework of the rising home. But I could, plainly, and my heart leaped when I saw the woman next to In-Charger. She looked and talked exactly like Sheri. Well, not exactly, except for her voice. While I was peering over the edge of my dangling legs, attempting to gauge the drop's effect on my useless body, I heard the voices below on the left and off a little behind me. So I peered over the left edge of the roof and saw them. From the top, it was Sheri. Then she turned her face a little, and, while her features were the younger Sheri but a little more stout---not the young, beautiful petite girl I raised, nor the Drug-Destroyed daughter who died---I saw the resemblance was just that--resemblance, but not her. I was seemingly stuck on the roof unable to move or warn her (of what, escapes me). I couldn't move on my perilous seat, not could I speak. 
       I was frozen in time.
        I looked away from them and again over to the peak of the roof, which had been far away. But now I saw that it was close enough for me to turn my body a bit, painfully, and reach a sort of handhold of dried tarred board, or glob, or something, and just as I had decided to risk it,
       I was delivered once again.
       I woke up.  
       I was in my bed, snuggled and warm.
       Mom always said----and thank God for Mom: "It's only a dream, Norma."
       So glad it's only a dream.

No comments:

Post a Comment