(Saturday, November 9, 2024) first quarter moon Aquarius / tarot Sun
After midnight I dream of putting on a thin, long old raincoat that doesn’t feel right. Too light, not warm enough. I walk up a flight of stairs to a large closet and try on fancier, furry winter coats that once belonged to my mother.
I wake up at two and fall back to sleep an hour later, entering a dream about family:
I am in our large ancestral home, made of multiple layers. I walk outside, across a tiny pond to meet Cullan inside the open garage, which is separate from the house. He gives me information about our upcoming travel and asks me to head upstairs to pack my suitcase.
Once in my bedroom, I fall back to sleep in my dream. Just for a little while. When I wake up, I panic because I know I am late for our trip. I run down the stairs and meet Chris’ mother Kay, who passed away in 2014. A huge surprise. She tells me she is back from a long journey, including a city or country whose name she tells me but I have forgotten.
There are vanished details of both dreams. But the plots are accurate.
Day notes:
I am a person with nearly empty closets. My mother’s are packed full of things she hasn’t worn in years. She met with a surgeon on Thursday and needs to decide if she will have her knee replaced or not. The doctor told her that using the stairs helps keep her muscles stronger. I use two sets of stairs at least 20 times every day.
It felt so good to have Kay visit me in my dream. Chris was affectionately complimentary yesterday.
Kay in 2013 at her assisted living facility for dementia. The photo on the left is our Plymouth house and the painting of the geese was made by her mother, who attended The Art Institute of Chicago.