Sunday, July 09, 2006
My son is making me keep a dream diary. I have it right beside my bed and when I wake up, I'm supposed to grab it and write like crazy before my short term memory buzzes out once more rapidly (one of the big impediments during my public school teaching days). He's quite interested and eagerly awaits my retrieval of it the next day as I read nonsensical things like, "My friend is going on a trip to Oregon and will stay at 'The Tilting Bear hotel" which I scrawled at 2:30 a.m. on the way to the bathroom. Hmmm... He often becomes angry because my dreams are not as frightening as his are. It's not fair, he repeats. Most of my dreams are silly seeming. However, one last night involved a self-minimizing surgical procedure of my tongue. I know what this signifies. A flameout of the week. An imperfection of the Christian parent. A parting retort. A tearing. An exit. A hole. Perhaps we deal with our weaknesses already when we agonize in our sleep. When we awake, perhaps we feel a little better, prepared to make a tentative step forward into reparation of some sort.
Posted by Fieldfleur at 10:35 PM