Dreaming

I dreamed last night. Well, I always dream. But I had awakened and then fell back into a dream-sleep. I was standing there and then I looked up and my Mother was standing there looking down on me.  I don’t mean that she was floating in the air or anything. I was just sitting down on the ground, and I looked up and there she was. I said hi to her, but she didn’t really reply. She just said. “It’s raining out”.  And then she just stood there. Then I awakened.

Now, I’m in my 86^th year, so I’m sort of past my sell-by date.  I don’t think this was some signal that I’m heading out the door soon, but who knows?  This pandemic has an effect on everyone, I realize. I’m no exception.  Awaken in the morning and I realize that another day has begun, but that’s all. Nothing else. If I’m in good shape, I realize what day it is.  Not that it matters what day it is.  Oh I guess it matters a little bit. I mean, Sundays we eat a bigger breakfast. Oh and then the Sunday New York Times is delivered. That’s a good thing. I get to read something other than Facebook, or my e-mail.  And on Wednesdays and Fridays I have to walk out the front door and go pick up the Tribune, our tiny local paper.  Then, typically on Friday afternoon, I have to drive out to one of our Harris Teeter supermarkets, where I park the car and then press a call button to announce my presence. Then a helper from the store will come out to the car with a few grocery bags of stuff we have ordered on line.

Then once a week, generally on Friday, we get to go to our local Barbee’s Farm Stand store to pick up some veggies we have ordered on line.  Then come Saturday, we drive out to Davidson to where the Farmers market used to be. But now, we head to the parking lot of the closed Davidson library. And there a couple of farmers will arrive, stay for an hour and have available the meat and eggs we have ordered also on line.

So, exciting huh?

Now I haven’t mentioned my every other day walk on Union Street, and my workouts on our home stairway or with the little weights. That’s exciting too.

So, with such a busy schedule, is there any chance my body would be telling me that it’s time to go?  Well, “to go” is a euphemism for cease existing.  But who knows? Even The Shadow doesn’t know the answer to that little life question. When it’s your turn, you simply stop existing. It isn’t pleasant or unpleasant. Your brain just stops working and when that happens, you are blissfully unaware . . . of anything.

So was Daisy trying to tell me something? Hmmm. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I simply conjured up her image, because each day I get a little bit closer, and my mind sees her as an image of no longer being.  Or maybe I’m feeling sorry for myself for having this unexpected way to close out of life. I don’t know what I expected, but this social isolation thing definitely wasn’t it.

Now I expect that I should just stop feeling sorry for myself. I mean, I’ve lived pretty long. The Great Depression was still on when I was born; then World War II; then schooling and college, and marriage, and all those other wars—remember Korea and Vietnam?? Yeah, they were fun, huh?? And then a really long, really happy marriage, with kids, and kid marriages and grand kids and all those nice things.  So a pandemic ending is at least interesting huh?  What would I be feeling were I our grandkids who are poised to graduate, one from high school and one from college?  Hell of a way to end those life stages I think.  Bet they had alternative conclusions that were a bit happier than this thing.

But, like all things, I assume this pandemic thingie will turn out to be one of those life experiences our grandkids will use to regale their grandkids, like I do about growing up poor in Manhattan during WW II. They can milk it for all its worth, just like I do.

So, now we can get on with things, except for the going out and socializing thing. And the hugging and kissing thing. And all those old fashioned socializing things. Yeah, they are sooooo 2019.

So, hang in there. This too will end . . . maybe.