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A Long Nap and a Dream
Jul. 25th, 2018 09:43 pmI napped for close to two hours this afternoon. I can't remember the last time that happened. I can't remember if this has ever happened before. And it feels good. Oh, getting out of it was a struggle through deep grogginess, as though I were coming out of major surgery and still fighting off the anesthesia and drugs and the damage, but I feel truly rested - in a way I haven't felt in too long, maybe years. The funny thing is, I didn't feel that busted going into the nap. When I laid down in bed, it felt like a regular day, so that I was wholly surprised, happily surprised, when I got up a couple of hours later wondering what day it was.
I even came away with a dream. Not a great dream, but something with some meat on it. It seems to be me, Pop, and Jack living together. We were set for a day of heavy housework. However, I badly needed to get something, a book, and I wanted to make a quick trip to buy it first. I was going to have Jack take me. We are apparently like real brothers in this dream world. Pop made some unhappy noise about my plan. In this dream, he is less like a father and more like an older brother - an overbearing older brother. He is even thin and quite young, possibly early twenties. When I insist on getting my book, he relents, but now he wants to come along too. I am fine with that, but I also insist that he let Jack drive. He agrees to that too.
And that was about it. It's kind of a plain dream, but odd. Incidentally, Jack was only on the periphery of the dream. He was definitely there, but it's as though he is always just off camera, or maybe on the edge of the scene at moments. I never really get a good look at him, nor do I hear him speak. And I really don't know what to make of the whole thing. It certainly wasn't a happy dream. It had the heaviness of reality about it.
The treatment of Pop was the most striking thing, and it was what first got my attention. The dream felt like it might have been a statement about him. It showed him as being less of a wise guiding figure to me than a bullying older brother. That's hardly a new insight, though. And I don't really care to complain about my mom and dad anymore. I am fifty-three now, and it is what it is. It's not a happy story, but it could have been worse. And it's not as though I were such a wonderful son, as I spent my life sulking away in my room at the unfairness of the world like a miniature Achilles.
I even came away with a dream. Not a great dream, but something with some meat on it. It seems to be me, Pop, and Jack living together. We were set for a day of heavy housework. However, I badly needed to get something, a book, and I wanted to make a quick trip to buy it first. I was going to have Jack take me. We are apparently like real brothers in this dream world. Pop made some unhappy noise about my plan. In this dream, he is less like a father and more like an older brother - an overbearing older brother. He is even thin and quite young, possibly early twenties. When I insist on getting my book, he relents, but now he wants to come along too. I am fine with that, but I also insist that he let Jack drive. He agrees to that too.
And that was about it. It's kind of a plain dream, but odd. Incidentally, Jack was only on the periphery of the dream. He was definitely there, but it's as though he is always just off camera, or maybe on the edge of the scene at moments. I never really get a good look at him, nor do I hear him speak. And I really don't know what to make of the whole thing. It certainly wasn't a happy dream. It had the heaviness of reality about it.
The treatment of Pop was the most striking thing, and it was what first got my attention. The dream felt like it might have been a statement about him. It showed him as being less of a wise guiding figure to me than a bullying older brother. That's hardly a new insight, though. And I don't really care to complain about my mom and dad anymore. I am fifty-three now, and it is what it is. It's not a happy story, but it could have been worse. And it's not as though I were such a wonderful son, as I spent my life sulking away in my room at the unfairness of the world like a miniature Achilles.
