Creeva’s World 2.0

Last night was strange.   The first part being strange is that I actu­ally had a dream that I can remem­ber.  From my nor­mal per­spec­tive I dream next to never.  I’m aware of the human dream mech­a­nisms that every­one does dream, but nor­mally I am unaware that I do it myself.

When I was liv­ing in Ore­gon my great grand­mother passed away, unfor­tu­nately my wife never had a chance to meet her.   She was con­sid­ered the “not com­pletely nor­mal” one of the fam­ily.   From my per­spec­tive, espe­cially now, I can say that she was prob­a­bly one fo the most nor­mal one of the fam­ily.   She was also one of the ones most like me.   She had a vora­cious appetite for read­ing and absorb­ing knowl­edge.  She didn’t also believe in pop­u­lar opin­ion and would find things in her own way.   I think part of her prob­lem was she was born in the wrong era.  I think she would have been absorbed and delighted in the Inter­net and the way things are today.

The dream mostly con­sisted of a nor­mal visit where she was stay­ing at my grand­par­ents.   There was just nor­mal talk­ing and I was my cur­rent age for what­ever rea­son.  There was noth­ing con­tex­tu­ally strange or out of place and no sig­nif­i­cant inci­dents occured.  When she did leave I was cry­ing and my grand­par­ents were ques­tion­ing why I was upset.   I was going on how she had got­ten her doc­tor­ate (she hadn’t IRL) and how she was a great woman.   How her views and ideas mat­tered.   In the dream I had almost worked myself up to a frenzy.    Then I woke up.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was my face was soaked and cov­ered in tears.   This was one of those dreams that bled over from the dream world to the real world.   I can say I truly miss her, but I don’t think of her that often, and def­i­nitely not as often as I should.   I have a few pic­tures of her and they stand around being a tes­ta­ment of where I’ve come from.   My grand­mother used to save up books and give them to me.   I still have quite a few of those books she has given me over the years.  She was a strong lady and I think that life moves on in a strange way.

Why am I writ­ing this?  I think i just want a tes­ta­ment to know that I’m still not in a dream.  That this is what is real.   Grief is a hard thing to deal with and some­times it hits you at the strangest of times.