They told me at the nursing home that Don was terribly tired, as he’d had a bad night with very little sleep at all. Apparently he had been restless and waking up at frequent intervals, quite agitated and wanting to get out of bed “to get to the funeral”.
So I said to him, You had a bad night?
Yes, he said, bad dreams. About a funeral.
He was half asleep and starting to drift off, but when I asked whose funeral it was in the dream, he woke up and seemed to remember it all clearly. He explained it didn’t matter whose funeral it was, in fact he didn’t even know. But he was the minister and he had to take the funeral, and he was trying to get out of bed so he could go and do it.
Then he looked at me, and said, “You didn’t come. I needed you to come because I didn’t have a car and I couldn’t get there. You had the car and I was waiting for you but you didn’t come, and that’s why I got so upset in the dream — I had no transport and was depending on you.” Then he added that he knew full well that it was a dream, but it seemed very real.
Of course it seemed real. Because, it IS real. I have the car; he has no car. I decide if and when he goes out; he decides pretty much nothing.
I’d be having bad dreams too.
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