Thursday, February 5, 2009

Buried, Then Not

I had a dream about Mr. Ex last night. A dream that moved me into the future (it was February 12th, for some reason.) We were in New York with our daughter M. for the weekend.  M. & I had flown from our respective locations and he had driven all the way from California, his trunk and backseat loaded with M.'s old toys. By the time I arrived at the hotel, the two of them and the toys were installed in our room. There was a large Buzz Lightyear, 2 child-size wooden stools I'd stained and stenciled just before she was born, remote controlled cars and a stack of other stuff. Mr. Ex had just gotten up from a nap and left the bed that I would later sleep in all rumpled. "Why did he bring all your toys?" I kept asking my daughter after her father had left. "We can't get all this to the airport...he's done this just to make problems for us." I left the room feeling upset and when I came back I couldn't remember which room I'd been in until I found the key envelope with the number, written in Mr. Ex's handwriting, in my pocket. There were someone else's children in the room when I entered and they were playing with M's toys. The three boys introduced themselves to me very politely--Raintree (he was a little apologetic about his name), Ernest Moon, and the third name drifted away as I awoke.
I don't think I've dreamt about Mr. Ex since he left me and I woke up feeling like things might fall apart today. But in the dream, I kept wanting to get back to my writer's residency and here I am. 
The quote from yoga class this morning that I heard most clearly: "Breath is always in the Now. We can't take today's breath tomorrow and we didn't breathe yesterday for today."

1 comment:

Elizabeth said...

sounds like what I call a dream hangover, and you know what cures that...