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Dreamscape Five
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Dreamscape Five |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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Dreamscape Five The where I had been before the old man appeared, I do not recall. But he had asked if he could give me a lift home, and his tractor, well, there it was, equipped with a tandem seat. My mind flitted to the fact that it appeared stream-lined, his tractor, one that I had never seen before, one that was unusual for any plot of land. But what did this former little girl know, she who had grown up betwixt and between the city and the country, there, on that cusp of in-between? A ride is a ride, he was friendly and me in need of having to get…somewhere. The sound of it, the tractor, was a familiar, pleasant chug-chug-chug, smooth and without hiccup or burp of metal against metal. The thought of oils having been applied and fluids running smooth seemed as recognizable as one’s body functioning without thought, easy and sure. Did we speak, this old man and I? More like thoughts floating, as I sat behind him, my arms around his wiry chest. Had he gotten down to the ground before I had clambered aboard, he would have been very tall, thin and wiry. As it was now, his legs seemed encased by some shell of the tractor. It comes to me now, I never saw his legs, and really, only knew the back of him. There was red in his shirt – was it plaid? I don’t recall. The feel of the material beneath my fingertips seemed light and airy, but there was most definitely red in it. For awhile. Before it changed. He never asked me of my intended route, where I needed to be. He simply knew the way, and the tractor moved over land I did not know. But there was no real vision before me other than the back of the old man’s weathered, brown neck, and the feel of his chest beneath my arms as I held on tight, yet I did not fear falling. It just felt good to hold on. It seemed that we came to a well of some kind. He needed, no, desired the water. I could feel him tremble just before he slipped down from his seat, although I, for some reason, looked the other way. It came to me, again, that I had no need to see his legs, nor how tall he really was. He just needed that water, as if it were a blessing to his soul to be able to drink it, and I knew, without tasting, that it was cool, clean, and clear to invisible. Just that fast, he was back in his seat again, and we were immediately headed downhill. Without a word, some tenseness in his body, I suppose, he cautioned me to lean back, back, my arms still around his wiry chest, so that we didn’t fling ourselves forward as the tractor headed down a rocky hill. Large rocks, no, boulders more like, were now on either side of us. I did not fear his intentions – he seemed to know his way about. As I leaned back, all I saw before me was blue skies, no clouds, no sun, just an azure sky so expansive that it made me think of a calm, quiet ocean. Beneath my clinging hands that were clasped in front of his chest, I felt the old man’s breathing quicken, as if some change had come over him, I tried to look forward, but we were still going down some steep hill, and I heard him, albeit he was voiceless, that everything would be ok. It wasn’t, though. As we neared the bottom of the hill, a house came into view. An old country house, low and lean. Just as we neared, it seemed that we were driving straight for a family who was dining in their kitchen, who watched us as if amazed that we had come through their walls, just like that, with no noise, and apparently no damage, for their was no dust nor rubble floating in the air. There they were, and there we were. It was then that the old man raised his left arm, high, over his head, as if helloing the house and its people. Something was wrong. His heart was bumping beneath my hands, erratically, hard, and now he was too warm, too moist, and I could see a fine shimmer of sweat appear on the side of his left cheek, as beads of water started to appear on his brow. The man at the table herded his children off to the side, fear on his face. The tractor was slowing, slowing, and voices all around me, some light and airy, some deep and ponderous, were talking. Come, old man. Yes, please, come home now. Old man, it is time, and little girl, tell him. Yes, yes, please, came the voices, tell him it is ok to let go. The man kept his left arm raised, the tractor had stopped, but the chug chug chug of the motor continued, like a heart, beating steady, trying to hold onto the heart that lurched in the old man’s chest, as if grasping for one last gasp of air. All around me, the voices, some light, some deep, told me what I needed to say, aloud, into the old man’s ear. I could smell him now, a deep musky smell, of a life well lived, still half here, but half gone already, some sense of straining still to be felt beneath my arms as he now fell back onto my breasts, as if we were still going down hill, but we weren’t moving at all. “It’s ok now, sir. It’s ok now, to let go.” |
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| © Copyright 2005 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Sissie....I'll be back to read when I have time later today.  |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Well, some warm fuzzy images here and still a gentle goodbye that does not intimidate. Nicely done.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Very interesting, sissie....I was right there with the girl the whole way, yet felt her deep empathy for the old man also, as if my fingertips were hers. It made me wonder what the dream? meant. Some message seems to be evident, but unclear. I really enjoyed this and the way you built up the tension and feeling and scene. Well done!!  |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Naught but the real of the dream as it unfolded last night, Martie. My sense of it was that the voices, as well as the old man, were telling me that it is ok to acknowledge death, and tell your loved one that it is ok to leave - that we will be all right, or mostly so, unti we see them again. The man was two men, I think. I think the thin wiry part of him was my father. I believe the part of him that had no legs - was my grandfather - who had his leg amputated due to gangrene from an accident - they kept missing it, and had to keep amputating his leg until they reached his hip. I didn't have a chance to say goodbye to my grandfather - I had the German measles when I was nine, the year that he died. Much as I did, my mother went to and from our home in Santa Maria to LA to be with her father running back and forth between her chicks, and her father, unable to bring them all together. When my father died - he had always been wiry - but his emphysema had taken his body down to that of an Auswicz victim. On Friday evening I arrived - several weeks into the play of traveling some 285 miles from our door to theirs after work, staying the weekend to relieve Mom - then going back to my own...just to repeat it the following weekend. They call it a Labor of Love... As I was saying, I got in late Friday, and spelled Mom for the night. The following day, I was in the kitchen helping Mom put Dad's medicine together. All had to be liquid, oral. Disguised in OJ, or something sweet that he could tolerate - so the bitter didn't come through so much. I wondered aloud if it would help if Mom told him that it was "ok" to go. Dad had promised to be around always - for her - the weak one - the one that was ill in their earlier years - he would "never" leave her. I wondered aloud to Mom if now was the time to tell him he didn't need to keep that promise any more. That grim, set line in her lips made me fear that once again - I never understood them. That I couldn't know the depth of her love, nor his for her - and so I stayed back that night, in shadows, fearing I had hurt her so deeply, that I could be so callow as to say "it's ok, let go"... It was late afternoon when Mom thought she was alone, and that Dad was sleeping, that I heard her. She was talking to him, loving him as only she could, telling him that she would be all right, that the kids were with her, and we would all be all right, if he could just please, be at ease with the idea that just for a little while, we could get along without him, and would all join him soon. Around 7:30 that night, Dad rallied, woke enough to recognize everyone. Told my younger sister to go home, please, to get some rest. Told my brother to go home, tend to his family. Looked at me, saying nothing, then back to the younger ones. "Your Mom and your sister are with me tonight. Everything will be fine. Please go home. I love you." Mom fell into a deep sleep that night. I thought I could stay awake, but remember jerking awake, and suddenly feeling much like others who fell asleep and abandoning another man, long ago. I remember that was my thought. I should have stood guard, I should have been awake. Dad was sleeping quietly. He didn't seem to be struggling for air. He woke for a moment, looked at me, raised his hand, tried to smile. Then he closed his eyes, and his sleep resumed. It was about 4:30 a.m. I was awake then, so got up, tiptoed into the kitchen, quietly made a pot of coffee. Mom, being Mom, would probably wake early. The hot coffee smell seemed to fill the house with its potency. I took a cup back into the living room. Dad was still sleeping, but looked for the first time in a long time, more relaxed, more satisfied. I read a book, waiting for Mom to wake. She was on a pallet there in the living room, where dad's hospital bed was stationed. Noises of a living house continued to whir and spin, cycle through their rumblings of going on. Mom woke around 6:15, surprised at herself for sleeping so long, and looking panicked to find everything so quiet. I raised my finger to my lips, shhh, smiled, and nodded toward Dad. I mouthed "just sleeping". She worked through her groginess and went for a cup of coffee. About 6:30 my brother came over. More quiet than normal, as I remember it, he and Mom were in the kitchen as the sun came up, getting more coffee, talking quietly. I sat with Dad, holding his hand. It was just a few moments before 7:00 a.m. and I had sensed the changing feel of Dad's hand. The phone rang. Our life-time doctor was calling, on Sunday, 7:00 a.m., checking on Dad. His friend. His biggest tease. Oh, the stories. "How's Bob?" Mom started to say what Doc wanted to hear, but looked at me, and I had to shake my head, no. Things went a bit off then, a bit haywire. Robert had to take care of Mom. Doc had to call 911. Things had to be put right. ~*~ So I think the man in my dream was both my grandfather, and my children's grandfather. I think the lesson for me, in this dream, that it is ok to help people know that we will manage, for awhile...until we see them again. Larry? Thank you. Real is but a dream come true... |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Karilea, My dreams are never worth repeating. And there is no capacity for fiction in this body. So I do appreciate those who can and do. The fact that it's you is a bonus. If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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Trillium
since 2001-03-09
Posts 12098Idaho, USA |
Dear Karilea: I enjoyed reading your dream/story. I found parellels in it, with my own life, I too had German measles when I was 9 and spent two weeks in a dark room, which seemed an eternity at the time. My grandfather died then and I never saw him to say good-bye. My father died when I was 27 and I went every week-end to be with him. He died in the hospital however, ten months later and I was not there, as it was mid-week. I have always regretted that so much. Of course, I don't know if he would have recognized me if I'd been there, as he had cancer and had pretty much escaped from the real world. It would have been closure for me, but perhaps it was meant to be that way. Your descriptive phrases brought back life on the farm as a young girl. I rode a tractor so many times, hanging on to an older cousin and we used to go to the nearest village to see a movie that way. It was exhilerating to be riding through the dark, headed for a movie and seemed to me were traveling really fast, though in reality we weren't at all. I wondered what message was in this dream of yours, but in reading your response, I think that must be it. It's so hard to let someone go and when they need to, it's time to tell them it's okay! Very touching piece! Love Betty Lou Betty Lou Hebert |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Karilea, as I read I began to think this was your father or perhaps, grandfather. I actually got goose bumps. Especially, when he went to get water from the well. I think that was really quite significant and that you were meant to get that part....perhaps more than anything else. But, I am not a dream interpreter, just got a very strong sense of that. This was so well written, btw..........jo |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
Wonderfully told journey where even death holds sway gently. Good job. Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Ladies and Gentleman... thank you...from the bottom of my heart. Love, K . |
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