The Uphill Slide

There is always something.

Dream Lover or Narcissistic Nightmare?

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I awoke at 9:12 AM, later than I wanted, but with the luxury of plans that had no schedule. I had been dreaming before I awoke. I was somewhere with my husband and grandson and Boots in the pick-up truck. We drove up to a crowd of people on a bandstand. A train with graffiti was passing by so I began to take photos. Then a woman I knew who is faceless now walked by in a costume that looked like she was dressed as a bottle of pink Pepto-Bismol. My fading memory thinks it was someone from the mushroom mines. In the next instance we were in a parking lot where I was tossing leftover cherry pie mash on the ground for Boots. She lapped it up as she does everything. She is not a dog with discriminating taste. She loves Kleenex; it’s a delicacy whether used or not. Suddenly I was in the back room of a department store talking to a tall older silver-haired man in full-length leather pants that laced up like lederhosen. He was complimenting my Fossil purse. It was a $7.00 thrift store find, a brown leather messenger-style bag with a long cloth strap and almost enough room. I walked out onto the sales floor where now he was arranging a display of men’s clothing. I wanted a picture of his odd pants to post on Instagram. “Are you a designer?”

“Yes.” He was arranging a nylon windbreaker that zipped halfway, only it zipped from the bottom, as if everything was upside down. He asked again about that purse. “Do you love it? How long will you use it?”

I left this man and walked back to the parking lot. The truck was gone. My husband had left me stranded there. I was disgusted but not surprised. I walked around to the front of the building and sat down with my daughter who was on break from Panera. We watched as my designer man walked by us and then she went back to work.

What did this dream mean that I unexpectedly remembered when I awoke?  It was about yesterday.

I babysat my youngest grandson. We had a wonderful time together; I think he called me grandma or something close. He cried when I left, and it felt good to know he didn’t want me to leave. In the afternoon I was watching programs about killer boyfriends. I mean killer in the very literal sense. Several of these men were online catches, a caution about online dating. Heck, my son met his wife online. Enough said? My husband in the past was cruising online dating sites or rather,  hook-up sites for married men. A one-sided open marriage? Dissection, reflection, and examination gives it the name complicit denial. Anyway, online definitely has its flaws though the old-fashioned meeting can also leave you charmed by a narcissist until too late. So my dream was a caution. My daughter was waiting for the car when I got home but disappeared to a meeting and a night with a friend. I called a friend from the mushroom mines to talk. Was she my lady in pink? And that purse? The clasp broke so I’ve been searching for a replacement.

My dream was a release of my day. I don’t know why I remembered it. Maybe it had lingering thoughts to leave with me.

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