Lord Frederic Leighton English Classicist Painter and Sculptor, about 1830-1896
I decided to take a peaceful little nap on my sofa yesterday when all hell broke loose. In my dream, I was actually on my sofa and my mother, who’s been dead now for over a year, was sitting in a chair across from me. I do not remember what we were talking about when I felt a prick of a pin on my right side. I felt down by my bra strap and there was a safety pin that had opened up and was sticking in me. OUCH! Blood!!! I pulled it out and it became a very sharp, black BIC pen. I remember being worried about blood poisoning? I was bleeding and bleeding. It wouldn’t stop. I’ve never seen so much blood and I certainly don’t ever remember ever dreaming about blood before in my life.
I ran to the bathroom and saw there was a pool of blood on the floor from where I had been bleeding before from my mouth or face. I grabbed a wet washcloth to press against the wound. I was wearing a green shirt and there were blood splatters all over it. The back of the shirt was tie-dyed in bright blues and yellows, reds and white. I kept dabbing the wound with the cloth until it finally stopped bleeding. I looked down and the wound was black and dark red and located right above my armpit. My mother was with me all this time. I do not remember what she was talking about.
Then, as I sat back down on my sofa, I heard men singing. At least 100 barbershop singers walked into my living room and I had to move furniture around to make room for them.
My walls were painted pale pink and it reflected on my furniture making it look pink, especially one chair. Then, the room turned into a ballroom or convention room and there was a horse drawn wagon with barbershop singers sitting on top. I remember thinking of Bob, my ex-husband, because he sang barbershop. My mom was still there and I don’t know if we were talking or if I was thinking… Bob was really nice and it’s too bad it didn’t work out, but he has a hole where his heart should be. A void right in the middle of his chest. End of dream.
When I awoke I had to look around to see if I had painted my walls pink. I expected to see barbershop singers, but of course, there were none. Five years after my twenty-five year marriage ended, I am still analyzing and trying to figure out what went wrong, even in my dreams. Five years have passed and I still do not date. Was this a release dream? The loss of blood and a healing wound?
Was it a poison pen or a sign that I need to write more?
I am visiting my daughter for the holidays and who is coming on the exact day my plane lands in LA? Yes, him! How does this happen? I made my reservations six months ago and he makes plans without even consulting our daughter. It was a surprise to her, also. And so, sharing two children, our paths cross. Through blood we are forever linked, and slowly my wound heals.