Bad Dream

March 25, 2005

Last night I had a terrible nightmare (redundant, I know. All nightmares are by definition, terrible.) I was sitting on the ledge of a 32-story building with my sister, Sandra, eating lunch, and out of the blue she turns to me and says: “I wonder what it would be like to jump.” And then, before I could say anything, she pushed herself off.

I watched in horror as she did a slow-motion swan dive, managing to land on her feet, but hitting hard. I somehow raced down to the bottom, screaming and crying, and got to her as she was being loaded into an ambulance, barely conscious.

I have been wracking my brains trying to figure this dream out. As I write this, it comes to me that my recently widowed friend, David, parachuted out of a plane as part of a AIDS fundraiser about 14 years ago (when he was 32, I think), and broke his ankle. He stayed with me in the ensuing weeks, pretty much couch-bound. And now he’s suffered a much worse loss, and I maybe need to be reminded how important it is that I am there for him?

But why my sister, then? As we know, dreams are obscure, perhaps interpretation is a fool’s game.

That’s the second really bad nightmare I’ve had in a month. I think I’m trying to exorcise my own demons, most probably. (Let’s hope that I don’t get a call that my sister fell while transferring boxes during her present move. Sis, I told you to hire movers!)

Off to babysit the ex-wife again at the lawyers. Catching up on some reading and being forced to cut back on the cigs, so it’s all good (not to mention the $).

MCO 2005