I am with two other people. We get a ride in a large post office truck. I have a camera with a long lens. The driver asks me to ride in front because the lens could bump something. My sister, Chris, is there. She is one of the two people. I tell her how I found out about the truck. I Googled to find rides to the cities. We will take the truck there and then use a Lyft to get to Mom and Dad’s place.
Day Notes: same as other 9/1/22 dream
I am in a large room like a gym. There are a few sections of foam similar to shaving cream across sections of the floor. In the back section there are some animals hidden in the foam. I don’t know what animals- three animals? I am with a group of people, none of whom I know. We are celebrating someone famous who has died. There is a woman leader. She is foreign. She keeps calling people out of their homes to join us and we tell them who has died. Four or five people are called to come join us. The leader then has us all hold hands and dance around. Then she climbs out of a window and the others follow her. I decide not to follow. My body, especially my knees, wouldn’t make it and I feel it is to dangerous.
Day Notes: Sad since beginning of the week. Chris cancelled our get togethers and Laura canceled dream group. My “rejection” wound is activated. I went for a Kayak and became grateful for what I have which helped. The dream group with three of us went very well. I feel like I am in a transitional phase. I am looking for my next “thing” that gives meaning in my life.
(Sunday, September 4, 2022, my father’s 89th birthday) first quarter moon Sagittarius / tarot Death
I’m in the Fridley neighborhood where I grew up. My parents’ house still sits on the hill, and they are there, standing outside the kitchen door, near the patio. We are all at our current ages but the neighborhood feels like childhood time, as the trees are young and the sun is very bright. No shade in a sand prairie.
My sister Jo is coming but is not there yet. She sends me an email about a friend who is trying to buy a house. I see that the friend needs to use a particular computer app. I start to reply to Jo’s email, but am called to the house across the street. My parents are gifting me and perhaps my siblings with this house. Workers are there to paint the eaves and the siding. I roam about the yard and think about what color to paint.
Surprisingly, the other house across another street is also a gift from my parents. The woman Karen Jones who owned it and who we grew up with has moved on to Maine. Workers are painting this house too. Old tan paint is getting scraped off of the eaves, which will be painted pure white.
Jo has finally arrived. We stand in mom and dad’s driveway, chatting. I explain to her about the realty app. Then we discuss what colors to paint the outside of the houses, charcoal grey and midnight navy. Our parents will be moving on and their house will be a gift as well. The designer side of me is comfortable with adding charm to the houses. I am glad that the hard, physical chores are getting done by professionals. The three small 50s-era ramblers were built by the same company and the floor plans are nearly identical.
Even in the dream I wonder if this is a metaphor for my parents’ will. It feels like gratitude.
