Mostly my dreams slip away when I wake up, even if I try to recall them. But some keep intruding into my mind, all through the day. I find the way to resolve them is to write them down, as nobody would want to listen to my recital of them. So here goes, the cleansing of a dream, so to speak.
I am driving toward home, relieved to be on a familiar route, the road from Watervliet to Cohoes. I am returning, maybe from a hospital visit, maybe the patient was Barbara, but I can't be sure because the dream starts with my driving. I realize the once familiar route is now different as it's been a while since I last drove it. There are new buildings. One complex on the left stands out, a new structure spanning probably most of a city block, maybe commercial, or maybe apartments. It sits low on complex driveways and is ivory with maroon trim. I inadvertently drive into the grounds on one of the newly constructed roads, and in driving back onto the main road, I am in the left turn lane instead of the right. No problem as there is no traffic behind me. I quickly adjust to the right lane.A man driving by gives me a dirty look as my car is only slightly out into the roadway, but no issue. I continue driving. ****I am at a place, much like the Fairgrounds. No activity there, but I see Dave and the collie, either Cosmo or Clara. I rebuke him for not having the dog on a leash. He goes into some office to deal with some routine paperwork. The dog goes with him. Noone seems to mind. I am carrying a newspaper and when I roll it up for easy carrying, the dog sees it and takes off, but only a short distance, quickly returning. I comment that the dog must have been punished in its past with a rolled newspaper. Dave remains mellow, most likely ignoring what I say about the leash. ***
I am at Barbara's house where she is recovering from a hospital visit. One of the Overocker girls is also visiting her there. She is at first in her bedroom where there is a pure white bed, so comfortable and inviting. I ask her if she takes a nap there during the daytime, and she says she never sleeps during the day. I say I don't either, but would be tempted to do so by that bed. I comment on her hair, which is now black, as in her youth and is short but kind of feathered, quite attractive. I even reach out and touch it. I say, so you've had your hair styled while you've been away. She smiles and agrees. I ask her where and she says Italy. I'm not sure if that's a shop or if she's just joking, so let it ride. The weather is fine, and we walk outside, down that familiar front step. She has no trouble walking and I tell her she's doing fine. She says that's because they left her knee when they operated. I notice she is wearing the same type of ballet slipper shoes she usually wore, and the only sign of surgery is the brown mesh socks she is wearing.
We go back into her house and the Overocker girl say she has to leave as it's getting time to eat. I say I'll be leaving too and ask if she needs anything. She says she could use some help with the pipes in the cellar if I know anyone. I try to think and am in the process of trying to say maybe George Kagel could, but I wake up before I can get the words out.
Thaks, Blog, for the opportuity to unload my dream. Now it can be put to rest.
