She Came to Me Last Night

I rarely dream; or rarely remember a dream is probably more accurate.  Last night was a jumble of visions involving sea monsters and exercise routines, until ultimately I was lying down and BC placed her head across my neck.  I was terrified to move lest she disappear, but even when I stroked her head she stayed put.  Stroking my neck when I awoke was SO comforting, you can't imagine.  Or maybe you can.

As a kid I had a series of dreams and nightmares, over and over, including flying, the best, of course; chased by Frankenstein; and my teeth falling out one by one, the absolute worst.  I dreamt in Technocolor, and even if I woke up I could immediately jump back into my personal movie, like picking up a chapter.  It was great.

But then Tino died suddenly and I stopped dreaming altogether; or again, remembering.  Whatever it was, the shock of discovering his body sent a jolt through my brain which affected the REM part. (Photo: Portland 1994, a month after we married and two before he died.)

Tino rarely visits me in dreams, either, but when he does it's like last night - an affirmation that they're still waiting.  I know I'll have BC's attention because I was all she 'had', but I'm not sure how much sharing I'll have with other people who have had their own families.  Jeez, will be I competing with someone's ex-wife, but I don't like to dwell on that.

I'd love to share these thoughts with another human but we all have our own experiences and can't really know what it's like in another's shoes.  I will relate a story which relates to a problem I've had with a few relationships, no names:

I have a new hairdresser, you'll remember I gave myself sideburns.  She's in her 30's but looks like a 20-something, very cute, nice hair (always helps), and doesn't chatter throughout my appointment.  That works for me because I'm there to pamper myself, not rehash my miserable life.  But we do chat a bit.

I mentioned that I always found it easier to talk with men than other women, and she immediately cried,

"Me, too!"  Sheer indication how those of us with less-than-popular views feel ashamed to disclose such impressions lest (we) be judged.  I'm too old to care.

"Women tend to size one another up," oftentimes rather than listening to words; but they also talk about babies and stuff, which, despite my words above, I didn't mention to Katy, who's expecting her third in the spring.

"Yes," she agreed, offering an example from her life; but her interpretation of my words wasn't quite what I meant.  We're from different generations so words can have different definitions, you know what I mean.  Doesn't matter.  The point is she seemed relieved to find a kindred spirit.  I felt the same in my 20's until I found someone my age who didn't want children, either.  Lots of pressure back then.

We fell quiet for a bit, each in our own thoughts.  Then Katy surprised me.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"When you shared with me I immediately turned it around to something in my own life.  I have a bad habit of that, I know; when what I really mean to do is show that I understand what a person's saying.  I'm really sorry."

I was floored.  Twelve years on a boat with someone who did the same: never pausing even a moment to acknowledge my words or the deep feelings I was expressing before relating something inane in his life.  Maddening; really glad not to have that on a daily basis.

But I'd never thought of that bahavior as a 'habit', good or bad depending on your viewpoint.  I took it to indicate (1) selfishness and (2) lack of empathy, and reacted as such.  Now, after Katy's words, I no longer consider it a character flaw.  Lord knows, I've plenty of bad habits of my own.

Phew, one less thing to dwell over.  Thanks for the visit, Beece!