And I dreamed that the girls (who seemed to be my sisters, for some reason) and I went down to Franklin to visit Daddy (who died ten years ago. In the dream, he was just fine, though). We visited for a while, but when I was ready to go home, the girls refused to go with me. They wanted to stay.
I cannot express the frustration I felt when all my threats, whining, and even tears did not change their minds. Even awake, I can feel it. Ouch.
I finally gave up tryin to persuade the girls, but I was goin home. Now, I don't know how we had gotten to Daddy's house in the first place, because then, I had to get a car from Daddy to go back home. Fortunately, in the dream, he had a big ol' car lot, in the field where Grandmama (Daddy's mama) used to plant peanuts. I could have any of the cars; all I had to do was fill out a form.
Thing was, each and every car had a dead body in, and/or on, and/or beside it (like a dealer havin died in the process of tryin to sell it to somebody havin died while about to do a test drive). Dead people. In various stages of decay. I decided, since a car with a dead person in it was my only choice, to pick one where the deceased had been so for quite a while. Dry bones only, please. And that's the only description of the car that I can remember, y'all. Sorry.
After choosin my car, Daddy said, "Give me your form," and I couldn't find it. I knew I'd put it in the Bosom Bank, but when I dug around for it, I couldn't find it. Finally, I felt a papery crunch down lower. I happened to be wearing one of those one-piece, whole-body girdles, and the form'd slipped down into the front of the "panty" area.
I turned away from Daddy, reached into my crotchal space, and pulled out the form. It was covered in a thick, grayish, slimy, disgusting crud, apparently a discharge. Ew. At this point, the form had become one of those disposable plastic and paper thingies hospitals use to help keep beds clean. I didn't want to give it to Daddy, but he wasn't disgusted at all, simply took the thang and sent me on my way.
But I was sick of this dream, so I woke myself up. It was so unsettling, I didn't want to go back to sleep, for fear of continuin the dream. (Would I have to pull that dry skeleton out of my new car myself? Or would I have to drive around with it?) I turned the lights on, turned on the TV, fought sleep until about five-ish this morning, when I had to get up and prod the girls into school-readiness.
Do dreams have meaning? I don't think so, unless it's just the mind tryin to figure out a problem that it couldn't solve durin the day. Lookin at it that way, then, I could see that my dream might have something to do with a spiritual relationship I've been worryin about. Worryin because I've been messin up. A lot. Askin forgiveness, you know, but not sure whether I've really repented. And, therefore, not sure I'm really forgiven.
Something in the dream, if this is its significance, bodes well for my relationship, then. I think.
But still. No chenille on the pillow tonight, honey.