In the dream, I’m having a cocktail. This is precisely why I am unaware that this is a dream…everything seems perfectly normal. Then I happen to glance at a clock. It reads 1:00…and realization dawns. One o’clock? Like, in the afternoon?? Don’t I have a JOB? Oh and a KID. Oh, CRAP…did I leave Connor somewhere?? I grab my phone and try to dial but the numbers are all jumbled…and WTF is wrong with this freakin’ phone?! Then I hear the faint melody of a familiar song…and I’m straining to make it out. And I think, “Is that Foreigner?”
This is when I wake. My eyes focus on the red numerals projected onto my ceiling: 6:27. The volume of Foreigner’s “Urgent” is increasing…and I wonder (not for the first time) how the conversation must have gone around that brainstorming session when someone said, “We need to slowly increase the volume. Start off low…and work our way up to annoyingly loud. Too many morons are stroking out because they neglected to turn down the volume before they set the alarm.” I imagine everyone around the table nodding knowingly.
I stumble out of bed as I punch the button to silence the music. I start down the hall towards the heavenly aroma in the kitchen, vaguely aware of the sliver of light under Connor’s door that tells me he’s up and about…but I’m incapable of speech till I get that first sip of coffee.
On the return trip to my room, I knock on Connor’s door and take the responding grunt as an invitation to enter. It is not…but that doesn’t stop me from pushing open the door. He’s watching I Love Lucy and eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. I casually note that the milk has taken on an odd shade of purple.
Me: “I had that stupid dream again. You know, the one where I think I left you somewhere and my phone’s on acid.”
Connor: (Eyes never leaving the screen) “Huh.”
Me: “I always get this sense that I’m far away, like it’ll take half the day to get home.”
Connor: “Um.”
Me: “And I just know it’s a weekday and I’m missing work. But I can’t call anyone because of the trippy phone.”
Connor: “Cool story, Mom. Tell it again…”
Me: “Why are you still here at 6:52?”
And I watch his face. For a split second there’s panic, then his eyes settle on the actual time…prominently displayed on the cable box, right underneath Lucy. He has a full ten minutes left to go. His features relax and settle back into that look of 15-year-old boredom I’ve grown to accept….but I think I see a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Connor: “Way to go, Mom. That wasn’t very nurturing of you…”
And I roll my eyes in mock-exasperation as I’m pulling his door closed behind me…but not before muttering, “I have to pee. Have a good day.”
And he groans.
Glad that dream is well a dream. I am always crashing my vehicle into things in my dreams; stressful but much easier to deal with when I just have to wake up.
Glad your son has a good sense of humor.
Waking up at un-godly early hours is bad enough; but to throw in stressful dreams (and alarm clocks) well that just takes it over the top.
I love the insights you give us of your world... Lately, for some reason, I've been dreaming a lot although I haven't shared them here (I have shared dreams in the past, just not the ones of late)... I think you must be a pretty cool mom and your dreams show how conscious you are of your responsibilities.
This is a great posting I have read. I like your article..
busana muslim
I miss purple milk. Now that my kids are grown I never have good cereal, like Cap'n Crunch or Froot Loops or Lucky Charms *sigh* I miss them and I've missed you dear Kathryn! Glad you are alive and well!
I miss purple milk. Now that my kids are grown I never have good cereal, like Cap'n Crunch or Froot Loops or Lucky Charms *sigh* I miss them and I've missed you dear Kathryn! Glad you are alive and well!
WAKE UP KATHRYN!
How's that? Helpful? Not really?
Pour me a cup of that heavenly coffee, will ya, and we'll sit around and come up with new ways to nurture (torture) our teenagers!
Believe it or not, I see love in that interchange. I see a natural rhythm that is part of parenting an adolescent. If Connor had said, "Gee, Mom, tell me more about your dream," I'd have been floored.
Slamdunk: Wow. Did you ever wonder what it all means? You crashing your car and me forgetting I have kids? Maybe we should keep this between us to avoid those men in the white coats. Agreed??
Gigi: I completely agree! The combination is simply unacceptable. I don't know what I dislike more: the alarm clock, the fact that I need an alarm clock, or the fact that my subconscious refuses to ever shut down.
sage: Yes, my friend...let's go with that one. Or, it could be that I'm a paranoid, overworked, freaked-out mother who's out of touch with reality and has no control over any aspect of her world. No, I think I'd rather go with your version!
busanalayali: Thank you very much!
Alicia: Thank you my sweet, forgiving blog-bud. Honestly, it's your ability to be so welcoming that allows me the strength to keep trying to re-connect. One day, we'll share that bowl of (gag!) cereal with purple milk!
Cathy Olliffe-Webster: HA! Sounds good to me! Hey, at least we only torture them in our dreams, right? (That is the story we're sticking with...right, Cathy? shhhhh...)
Wendy Ramer: Aw. Thank you, sweetie...and you're the expert, so I know you know. The fiction of a "tell me all about it" from Connor would absolutely have been bullsh!t (I mean, fiction.) It's hard for me to identify love when I look at him...I'll have to watch more closely the next time he's playing his x-box. Maybe the love is there!
Dreams should be kept as dreams. Some things don't need to come to fruition.
http://www.glamkittenslitterbox.com/
Twitter: @GlamKitten88
So glad your on blogger again!!! Was wondering what happened to you. I miss your wonderful blog stories. Although, I did find you on twitter. Promise I am not stalking you,lol.
Not too sure of how to use all the twitter stuff but at least I can post a tweet.
And no cereal is truly great unless it turns milk unnatural colors. I would know cause I LOVE cereal. The marshmallows in Lucky Charms are the best :)
I wish you had the opportunity to write here more. You write like I think -- so I think that means we are bonded (not the kinky kind) in some way.
I have been away for a while, but it was important for me to claw my way here immediately upon return.
Love and hugs,
Jerry
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