smiling. I followed Vita to the bathroom and I was almost happy until I spotted the hearse through the window. I was instantly reminded why we were here.
We walked into the bathroom, which was a strange pink and burgundy. The line of women was out the door, with every stall filled. After pulling out a couple of handfuls of paper towels, Vita led me to a mini-lounge area on the opposite side of the bathroom, away from the waiting ladies.
“How have you been, sweetheart?” Vita asked as she fussed with my dress.
“OK.”
“Still some crazy dreams spoiling your sleep?” she asked, quietly.
“Sometimes,” I agreed. Vita made a sound of empathy and stopped what she was doing to look up at me.
“You know, I had an idea. Thought of you. Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s where you recognize that you’re dreaming, and you can take control of the dream.”
I was interested to hear that it was a ‘thing.’ “Oh, I actually do that sometimes. It’s hard to do.”
“It surely is. You surprise me! I’ve been practicing it for years. I’m excited that you’ve already been trying it out because it should be that much easier for you.”
I had started mopping some of the water out of my dress with the paper towels alongside Vita. “What would be easier?”
“Asking questions you have—while you’re dreaming.”
“How?” Could anyone beside my mother answer my questions, I wondered.
“Well, what if you wrote down your questions on paper and put them in a drawer. Then, in your dream, you open the drawer and hand the paper to whoever is talking to you. Your right brain will retain the questions you wrote while you were awake—so don’t worry about that. Or, come to think of it, you could just write out the questions in your dream, while it’s happening. I suspect you can find a thousand ways to do it.” She looked at me hopefully.
“That’s such a good idea.” My heart leapt at the hope that I could possibly get some of my questions answered.
“I’m so glad. Give it a try, soon as you can. Be sure and let me know how it goes. OK?”
I nodded. She was happy with our dress-drying work now and sprayed my dress with her static cling spray.
Right after Dave’s funeral, Kevin clearly didn’t want to leave me alone. I’d protested his wanting to hang out with me for the day, but we watched all three of the movies we’d gotten from the library right after the funeral luncheon.
I was actually surprised Kevin didn’t have to go to work, but he’d taken the day off for the funeral—which was super nice. We went to his house, and he gave me some of his sweats to wear so I could take off my terrible dress, and he gave me a big blanket and opened the recliner for me when I sat down. I smiled at him and curled up into a ball, mindlessly watching our movies: The Hunger Games (the first one , and I ’ d seen it twice already) , Creed , and the latest Star Wars .
Every time he got up for some reason and came back to the sofa, Kevin looked unsure as to where he should sit or whether or not he should touch me. So, he kissed me on the head a few times and just went back to his side of the sofa. This continued for a few hours.
“So I got you something and I want to give it to you, but I’m worried that it will make you sad,” he told me between movies two and three.
“It’s OK. I’m already sad.” I smiled. “Low risk.”
“Awww,” he said, unsure of what to do. “Well, OK, let me grab it.” He came back in less than half a minute. He was holding a small, brown bag. “I didn’t wrap it because that seemed a little inappropriate, but I just wanted to give you something that I thought might remind you of Dave.”
I put the ends of the sleeves of the sweatshirt I was wearing directly on my eyes to absorb the tears. I laughed as he looked horrified. “No, no. It’s fine. Go ahead.”
“Well, I knew about the centipede story and centipedes are pretty
We walked into the bathroom, which was a strange pink and burgundy. The line of women was out the door, with every stall filled. After pulling out a couple of handfuls of paper towels, Vita led me to a mini-lounge area on the opposite side of the bathroom, away from the waiting ladies.
“How have you been, sweetheart?” Vita asked as she fussed with my dress.
“OK.”
“Still some crazy dreams spoiling your sleep?” she asked, quietly.
“Sometimes,” I agreed. Vita made a sound of empathy and stopped what she was doing to look up at me.
“You know, I had an idea. Thought of you. Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s where you recognize that you’re dreaming, and you can take control of the dream.”
I was interested to hear that it was a ‘thing.’ “Oh, I actually do that sometimes. It’s hard to do.”
“It surely is. You surprise me! I’ve been practicing it for years. I’m excited that you’ve already been trying it out because it should be that much easier for you.”
I had started mopping some of the water out of my dress with the paper towels alongside Vita. “What would be easier?”
“Asking questions you have—while you’re dreaming.”
“How?” Could anyone beside my mother answer my questions, I wondered.
“Well, what if you wrote down your questions on paper and put them in a drawer. Then, in your dream, you open the drawer and hand the paper to whoever is talking to you. Your right brain will retain the questions you wrote while you were awake—so don’t worry about that. Or, come to think of it, you could just write out the questions in your dream, while it’s happening. I suspect you can find a thousand ways to do it.” She looked at me hopefully.
“That’s such a good idea.” My heart leapt at the hope that I could possibly get some of my questions answered.
“I’m so glad. Give it a try, soon as you can. Be sure and let me know how it goes. OK?”
I nodded. She was happy with our dress-drying work now and sprayed my dress with her static cling spray.
Right after Dave’s funeral, Kevin clearly didn’t want to leave me alone. I’d protested his wanting to hang out with me for the day, but we watched all three of the movies we’d gotten from the library right after the funeral luncheon.
I was actually surprised Kevin didn’t have to go to work, but he’d taken the day off for the funeral—which was super nice. We went to his house, and he gave me some of his sweats to wear so I could take off my terrible dress, and he gave me a big blanket and opened the recliner for me when I sat down. I smiled at him and curled up into a ball, mindlessly watching our movies: The Hunger Games (the first one , and I ’ d seen it twice already) , Creed , and the latest Star Wars .
Every time he got up for some reason and came back to the sofa, Kevin looked unsure as to where he should sit or whether or not he should touch me. So, he kissed me on the head a few times and just went back to his side of the sofa. This continued for a few hours.
“So I got you something and I want to give it to you, but I’m worried that it will make you sad,” he told me between movies two and three.
“It’s OK. I’m already sad.” I smiled. “Low risk.”
“Awww,” he said, unsure of what to do. “Well, OK, let me grab it.” He came back in less than half a minute. He was holding a small, brown bag. “I didn’t wrap it because that seemed a little inappropriate, but I just wanted to give you something that I thought might remind you of Dave.”
I put the ends of the sleeves of the sweatshirt I was wearing directly on my eyes to absorb the tears. I laughed as he looked horrified. “No, no. It’s fine. Go ahead.”
“Well, I knew about the centipede story and centipedes are pretty
Similar Books
