Monday, September 10, 2007

He didn't look like Santa

I used to have this recurring dream when I was a little kid. Someone was pushing my mom off a balcony, an indoor theatre balcony and it was a very vivid dream. He was a bearded gentleman, not bearded in a pleasant way like Santa Claus, rather bearded in a frightening way like someone that did it to make them look older or more threatening. He was never unkempt or dirty as one might imagine the unabomber to be, he was someone you might have seen in the grocery store and discussed the ripeness of your melons with, and he was throwing my mom over the front of a balcony.

My mom, even in her fear and agony, was looking radiant, always wearing a silk blouse and being on the cusp of a generation that found feathered hair "the thing" she wore her short dark hair in a fluffly toussle around her hair and I could see it wisping backwards and forwards around her as he threw her. In my sheer terror I would always wake up before the man suceeded in throwing my mom over the edge, in some respects saving her from my own worst fears.

Although I would save her from my imagined fears, I never did find out the outcome to that dream, but when I would scurry my pint sized body as fast as I could to my unharmed mothers side in the middle of each night I would see that the man had not won this time. Now, over 10 years later, as real life drama escalates that dream comes back to me in sleep and in waking and I wonder will simply waking up be enough to save the day?

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