Friday morning's dream

I had a strange dream last night.

I dreamed I was living someplace else. All I know about it was I in a very big room with very high ceilings and from the ceilings against the walls hung beautiful purple tapestry curtains. They had gold trim or tassels – some sort of ornamentation along the edges. And, in this place a man with red hair named John asked me to marry him. I didn’t feel I knew John well, but I said yes.

And, as he left the room the tapestries began to come down and I knew that it was because I got to keep them if I married John. Other people came in the room. Young people like I was young and I told them about saying yes and about the tapestries.

Then time passed and I was looking upon a rural scene. There was a bright green pasture with horses and a field in which were planted a long row of apple trees. It was very early in the spring. The trees were dark and leafless, but the grass was yellow green. I turned to my mother and said I didn’t know where I was, but I hoped this was mine.

I turned the image and saw the house. It was a large, old farmhouse. The off-white paint was pealing from the walls. Maybe this wasn’t such a dream house…but then I looked at the front.

Like a dollhouse the front of the house was removed inside people were scurrying to replace the furniture and decorations. A grand staircase descended down the middle of the house- the stairs and baluster’s dark wood shining with wax. Chairs were set up both upstairs and downstairs looking out and I was placed, now wearing a long gown, on the stage in front of the house. I had a high backless stool that I could sit or lean against if I liked. And, in front of the stage were more folding chairs with more guests.

I knew this was my wedding to John. I looked through the crowd and couldn’t see his face and I told myself I thought I would recognize him…but I wasn’t certain. Then the music began.

Making his way down from the upper floor and through the crowds to come sit or lie propped on an elbow before me came a man wearing a plastic mask and singing. “One love to be living for. This nearly was mine.” I wondered if it could be John- but I didn’t think so. (http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/southpacific/thisnearlywasmine.htm)

And, while he was singing, three older women arrived. Two made their way up onto the stage and found seats on the first floor of the house and the third sat on a chair on the ground immediately in front of my stool. She had brought a gift, but she didn’t seem to really know who I was.

I woke up before the music ended. I woke up before I knew for sure that John wasn’t coming or before I knew if I cared whether he came or not. I woke up feeling bittersweet.