Things that happened in my dream last night.

June 27, 2008

Peter said we could come and stay with him, my wonderful boss-lady and I. He helped us to make up the large bed and the futon both, and I let her have her choice. She asked, hopefully, if she might sleep head-to-foot with me, like a sleepover? I said no, she had too many other things to worry about. Let’s just go to bed. So we did.

When I woke, she was just getting up from the other side of the bed where I’d been sleeping. I said her name, second syllable raised in wonderment, like a question. She turned to me, and looked as if she was about to say something, but instead her eyes filled. She put her hand over her mouth and turned to leave the room but tripped over her nightgown. I scooched to the end of the bed, leaned down and took hold of both of her feet.

It’s okay, I said. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.


The divorce proceedings were taking place in the conference room here, at work. The heartbroken woman asked me to sit next to her, so I did. The five lawyers came in first, and one of them asked me – is it necessary that all of these people be present? (In addition to me and the heartbroken woman, there were two of the pastor’s sons from my church, Peter again, a tall man from government affairs and my business law professor.) So I asked the pastor’s sons to leave, and Peter if he wouldn’t mind waiting outside, as we still needed a chair for the soon-to-be ex-husband. As Peter walked out, the soon-to-be ex walked in. He was drunk and red and stumbling and angry, and he sat next to me and put his hand on my thigh. I pushed it off. He put it back and added a creepy caress of sorts. I pushed it off and told him not to fucking touch me. Suddenly everyone in the room was screaming and I was trying to get the lawyer’s attention that he was FUCKING TOUCHING ME and the heartbroken woman stood and ran from the room.

I went to find her. She was at school, in the nurse’s office, huddled under the covers on a cot. I walked in – the nurse was gone – and sat next to her, but when I put my hand down on the chair, I jabbed myself with a syringe. OUCH, I said, involuntarily, and plucked the needle from my hand. The heartbroken woman pulled the covers back. It looked as if she’d been napping. She yawned.

Is it over? she asked. Tell me it’s over.

I ignored her question said that I had to get back to work. She asked if she could come with me.

I walked through the hall, down the stairs, through a set of double doors and into a classroom full of young students. They screamed my name in excitement – my first name – and I said, “Don’t you need to be calling me Miss?” A pair of curly-headed tawny twins wearing glasses said, “We’re so glad you’re back! We missed you so much! We’ve been waiting for you.”

The heartbroken woman sat at the piano and played quiet Chopin as I taught the children a dance.


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