As is usually the case at the beginning of Lent (no doubt because of the fact that I knock off the gargle and thus throw my sleep patterns out of whack), I have been having a series of quite vivid dreams of late. They seem to fall into two categories. In the first, I find myself in a public place in a situation of great personal squalor (which I won’t describe). The action of the dream involves trying to clean myself up and accepting that I’m going to have to do so while people are watching. In the second group, I find myself trying to finish a discreet episode – a softball season, say, or a semester of school. Things have started to come unraveled, but in the dream I attempt to square accounts, as it were, and finish up by doing the right thing, although it seems to me that I really don’t much want to. (Attempt, that is. In the softball dream, I had to step in and pitch in order to avoid a forfeit. I was terrible at it.)
It’s my belief that these dreams have something to do with penitence and prayer – acknowledging and atoning for past weaknesses and resolving to do better going forward. So although they are sometimes unpleasant, overall I take them as a healthy thing.
Then there was the dream I had the night before last: I was in a stretch limo on the way to a wedding at the White House. As we tooled along the highway, storm clouds started gathering all around. I glanced back and saw a tornado coming up behind us. Looking forward, I saw a long, low causeway stretching out over a body of water, like in the Florida Keys. Suddenly, the driver stopped the car and said he refused to go out on the bridge in these conditions. To which I replied something like, “Well, okay, but brace for impact.” I could hear the twister getting closer and could feel a drop in air pressure. Then, just when I though we were about to get hit, I saw hundreds of little gray “fingers” brush and swirl around the tops of the windows. This lasted just for a split second. Suddenly, the storm was gone and the sky was clear. And then (if I may borrow a line from one of my favorite blogs) I woke up. During the time the storm was coming, I remember distinctly being not afraid, but intrigued. And frankly, I felt a bit flat when it all fizzled out.
What that one meant I don’t know, unless it was the result of too much spicy Eastern Mediterranian lamb at dinner.
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