"Old People"

Yesterday I didn't have time to write, but thought that today, instead of last night's non-remembered dreams, I'd go back and share the night before's.

In my dream, I went up to one of my daughter's friends, named Christian, and started to kiss him. Then he took my hand and said let's go get the keys. I went with him through a very grand hotel lobby and entrance (one I have dreamed of a few times before... with the round central room and white marble floors with black details). We went to a reception area that was similar to an airport waiting area with a check-in counter. In the seating area we plotted about how to get the keys. I would go over and steal them from the desk. But, as I walked to the desk, the ladies there said, "Oh are you so-and-so, here's your keys." So I just grabbed the three keys and went back to Christian. We went through a 'maze' of elevators and stairs, some broken with caution cones around them, and some normal. We felt like we were being followed. We got into a large SUV and drove to a town house community. We parked in a communal lot and walked to the house. There was a key rack right below a small front window. The key chains were all macrame. There were three empty spots that we knew belonged to our keys, and in each spot was one letter that together spelled R I P. It meant that the three people who's keys we had were dead. We took that as a good sign. Then we went inside. On the floor (on mattresses) and on the fold out couches were old people, all asleep. They were all cozy in their quilts and afghans.  We went into a small kitchen to our left and started making hot chocolate for all the old people as they woke up.

I had another dream that I was in a van with a bunch of old people and we arrived at a lady's house that goes to my dad's church. I was getting out and one of the old ladies, who had a walker, was trying to get me to move all the removable seats in the van so that they could get out easier. She was shoving them all over the place and making it more difficult on herself.

I left her and the rest still in the back seat and went through the garage into the kitchen with my family and my parents. We called for the owner of the house, but she wasn't home. I looked through curtains on my left out into a court yard with three picnic tables and a nice flower garden. My mom told me to close the curtains, that I was being rude. I walked to the entry of the house and looked out the front window. I watched trucks and cars go by looking for the owner of the house, but she never came. I noted that she had a good piece of property. She was up on a hill, on a corner. When I realized she wasn't coming, I started down the hallway to my right. It grew. At the end of the hallway were two rooms. I thought the right door would look better on the adjacent wall, and it moved there. The left door, straight ahead, went to an older boy's room that was filled with heavy metal memorabilia. It was a mess with clothes and things all over. The room to the right was like a work shed. It was clear that they belonged to the same boy, but there were no posters on this wall. I thought, "this would make a good music room". Then I walked out.

I had another dream (and I recorded them all), but I went to a Seder service last night and recorded over the dreams... and now I can't remember the last one. Poo.

So... why the old people? This may be a stretch, but one of the songs I've been listening to a lot lately (and am going to see the band in concert tonight) is "Wake Up the Dead" by Family Force 5. The songs talks about the judgmental attitude that they are getting from some of the older members of the church in general. 

This generation is a "praising" generation. Many of the "old" people aren't very happy with the way "Christian" music is sounding. (I have to say, that sometimes I fall into this category with my daughter's "Screamo" christian music.) Anyway, Christ said that the last generation would be a praising generation. 

One old pastor I heard on the radio said, "We need to stop spending so much time singing, and start reading the Bible." His whole message inadvertently down played praise and worship as if they were not an important part of church. I was a little miffed. 

Young people are 'stealing keys' from 'dead' old people. You have to be awake and alert in this time of tribulation. I know many awake old people, so it's not just about being old. I think it's more about "old-fashioned". 

Perhaps we can wake them up... with some hot chocolate, or maybe we will take over their good piece of vacant property, and they will be left in the van. We have the keys.

???

"Closets or Shops"

Last night's dream was all about my sister and I, and clothes.

I'm not exactly sure why, but I think it could have something to do with the children's book I mentioned the other day. I had a conversation with my husband before I went to bed about it, and basically he said, "You don't have time for that." The discussion was far more in depth, but it left me thinking about who could write the book instead. My first thought was my friend Laurelin, who is a great writer. But she's writing her own book. This morning when I woke up, I was thinking about my sister. My sister is a great writer as well... the problem is, I don't think she'd like the subject matter. :-/

That's just one thought about the dream.

I could take it another way, in that 'why am I messing with my sister's talent, why not stick with my own which is clothes', since the whole dream was about clothes... but not really my own. hmmm? That was part of our pre-bedtime conversation too.

One other thought I have about it is that is it similar to one I had a week or so ago about being at camp and packing the suitcase, taking out my sister's clothes. That dream had a lot to do with my counseling session and getting rid of the remnants of her influence over my life.

In the dream we were in rooms similar to our rooms from 5th and 6th grade. I had her dresser in my room (one I painted later in our teen years) and I was getting dressed for school. I was wearing a yellow and white skirt I have with eyelets and flowers, looking for a top to go with it. (Which really is a problem with that skirt.) I was wanting a yellow T-shirt and a light eyelet-ed white three quarter top that I could just button near the top. It didn't exist. I looked through the closet. Went in her room (to the left of mine) and looked. Looked through the dresser, which had hidden drawers of jewelry from our past. It looked like the dresser was in bad shape, but it still worked. The jewels were so packed in that they over-flowed a bit and stuck out the sides in places. (Hummmm, perhaps this is just about talking to my sister. Telling her of her treasures.? Well... that only explains parts.)

I left my room and walked down the hall to the right; I was in a college dorm environment. I had my own room and my sister was sharing with "the rich girls". I walked into their room looking for a top to wear. Their room was huge. It was like a massive closet. No furniture, just clothes on long built in wooden racks. They were mostly sweaters. (I have dreamed of a store like this before.) I said, "it looks just like Anthropology". (My favorite store.) (It really didn't, but I could see all of those sweaters being sold there.) They were colorful, made with variegated yarns. I wanted all of them, but none of them were my sister's. I left the room feeling rather disappointed. On my way back to my room I noticed that the hallway was very large and barren, nearly abandoned in feel. The walls were a grayed white. There was one large archway before you got to my room on the left. I was making a note of it to tell people how to get to my room. But once I got to my room, it was a shoe store. I was a little concerned. "What happened to my room?" I wondered if I was now in charge of the shoe store, or if possibly my room was inside somewhere. I walked down a little alley beside the shoe store and came to an area full of raw wool. My fried Barbara and her two daughters were there, and we decided to learn how to dye and spin our own wool, so I could make pretty sweaters like the ones in my sister's dorm room.

I woke up while I was looking at all the variations of thicknesses of un-dyed yarn hanging.

Perhaps Barbara is going to help me with my story.  Or maybe that's just because she is holding me accountable to finish the portrait I'm working on, so that I can get back to sewing. I'm really having a hard time with the direction of what I'm supposed to be doing.  I guess I should just stick to what I know I've been called to. Get going on my fashion show, whatever else happens, happens.