Wednesday March 15
She’s there! I exclaimed to myself as my eyes popped wide open. It was my first thought after awakening from a deep sleep. I was lying on my back feeling elated and the most rested I had in a long time. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to go back to my dream. She must be settled in by now, I thought, or maybe I hadn’t been ready to receive her until now.
Some say that those who have passed on visit us in our dreams. Being a practical guy and not falling easily for esoteric, new age ideas, I would never have believed it myself, but it happened to me once before. When Gram’s son, Chubbs, died, he too, came to me in a dream months later. My therapist says we dream every night, we just don’t remember most of them. I’m not sure about that, but I do know that I only remember a few dreams per year. And this one was significant.
On the surface, the dream was weird – the scenes were choppy and incomplete - as I suppose most are. But as I recapped it in my head and with my best friend, Natalie, the next day, I believe it was deeply symbolic and meaningful.
It was nighttime and Gram and I were sitting at Del Frate’s bar in downtown Pittsburgh, a place where I spent a lot of time in the late 1980’s. It was dimly lit and we were amid the constant din of voices, some conversing with us. I couldn’t see faces, only torsos, and I don’t know who these people were. Gram didn’t drink and certainly didn’t frequent bars, so I’m not sure why we were there. Gram broke through the noise, “I have to go. I’m getting the bus home.”
“No, I’ll drive you.” I was always afraid for her walking around or riding the bus at night in the city, which she did for many years while working at Carlisle’s. Within seconds, I was in the passenger seat of my car, which was in a parking lot across the street, looking at Gram sitting in the driver’s seat. I wondered why she was there. She never learned to drive. “I’ll drive.” I said.
Suddenly we were in a large field with lots of people. The field was situated on a large, grassy hillside. It was a cloudy day, which made it easy to see the circular grove of trees at the very top without having to squint. The hay-like grass was long with blades of brown intertwined – typical of late summer. A path had formed where the grass was worn down from the foot traffic. To the right was a long, galvanized, chain link fence that separated those of us walking up the hill from a soccer field and an adjacent baseball diamond. I couldn’t tell if anyone was playing there, though. The landscape was vivid, but there were no faces on the people and there were no sounds coming from them.
There were people of all ages, too, on this hill. They were walking about purposefully and in unison – in the same counterclockwise direction and never stopping. It was not a hustle and bustle, they were moving more slowly than that. Yet they were not zombies.
Gram and I were walking up the hill along with the others. Gram was walking a few feet behind me and to my right.
We turned with the crowd, toward a plateaued area on our left and continued to walk. This area was grassy, too, but it was much greener, shorter, lawn-type grass. There were white track and field markings chalked onto it. Children were running around and playing here. I could not hear them and they were not in unison with the adults.
I looked over my right shoulder to check on Gram and my heart dropped suddenly when I realized I had lost her. In her place, now, was a white-haired woman. There was no face on this woman, only white hair. She walked with me as I re-traced my steps in an attempt to find Gram. My body began to tremble and I felt that familiar, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Have you seen Gram?” I asked people as we walked. But no one responded to me. They kept walking.
As we walked over the plateaued area and back down the hill and began the ascent back up to where we started, I was puzzled as it became clear to me that we were all simply repeating the same large circle - up the hill, left to the plateau area, then back down. No one ever made it to the peak where the trees were. I didn’t have time to figure it out.
As the white-haired woman and I made it back around along the fence, I, once again, turned to my right side and noticed I had now lost her, too. I was suddenly alone and confused. I stopped dead and turned completely around and there, about 20 feet down the hill behind me, was Gram. She was with the white-haired woman and giving her hell about something. I could not hear words, but I could see Gram waving her finger at the woman.
It was only then that I finally saw Gram’s face and image clearly. I noticed in that moment how beautiful she was. She was the young, vibrant, and healthy Gram of earlier years. Her hair was dark and neatly curled. (It was still dark when she died, too, but had recently become streaked with gray.) She was wearing lipstick and had powdered her nose and cheeks like she used to. She had on a two-tone blouse, whose turquois and blue colors were soothing. It reminded me of some sci-fi women’s styles from the 1980’s. It had stiff, pointed shoulders that protruded over her arms. Perhaps something you’d see on Joan Collins back then, but Joan’s would be power red. The blouse went to the waist and covered the top of her dark wool slacks. Upon seeing her, I immediately stopped trembling and my stomach settled.
I woke up.
As I lay in bed contemplating my dream, I wondered if I had visited heaven. Is that what the field was? Were the people there those who had passed before? Or, rather, was the field symbolic of life here - more specifically - the circle of life, represented by the young, the old, and the repeating of the circular movement through the field. I suspect it was the latter.
Furthermore, I don’t think I lost Gram when I turned around. I think she broke away from me or perhaps, more appropriately, released me. I believe she was conveying a message that it was ok for me let go of her and get on with my life – that she was fine and didn’t need me to worry about her anymore. And those 1980’s references – the bar, Gram’s outfit? I believe they harkened back to a time when things were better, when Alzheimer’s wasn’t even a consideration and when Gram was vibrant, active, and healthy. And I believe they aided in reinforcing the message that she was whole again and I could move on to seek my new purpose.
The white-haired woman was Jude, Gram’s daughter-in-law. I’m sure of it. Gram was giving Jude hell as she often did throughout the many years of their love-hate relationship (mostly love). Gram would definitely want me to be there for Jude, but perhaps she was telling her to take care of herself so that she would stay healthy and stay around for a while. Jude and I also share a bond and losing her will be difficult. Gram knew that. Or perhaps she was simply giving Jude hell because it’s what she always did.
As I got out of bed to start my day, I thanked Gram for the visit and the message. She may never visit me again, as Chubbs never came again after that first visit. But I take solace in knowing that she is ok and our bond has been re-established.
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