Dream-Beans and Privacy

Cranky. That is how I usually wake up of late, but today was somewhat different. Not quite happy, but definitely not nearly as cranky.

Last night I only got up once, and had a snack, and then (mercifully) got back to bed again. Translation: I slept.

Okay, I admit: that is really good.

While having coffee some time later (DUNK’N, of course), I took out a pencil and started to write (you know I keep a dream journal). Thing is, my boyfriend came over at that moment. “What are you writing — is it about me??,” he says as he starts to LOOK OVER MY SHOULDER, joking. Only I don’t take it as a joke. I just kind of glare at him. And, as I do that, I kind of forget what I was going to write.

My dreams sort of vaporize, like a mist. Only a few major signposts stand out — a person, a feeling. I try to quickly write them down,

only, to be honest, I suddenly don’t feel like it any more.

I realize that privacy is super important to me. Maybe it is just hardwired into my personality. I have always wanted my own space, even as a little kid.

—-PAUSE. Some time passes.—–

I take a walk. By myself. Something about my surroundings — all wintry and icy and snowy — hits me and BAM, I remember part of my dream: ice-y snow, in a vast sheet, towering way above me in heaven. I sit on a slope of ice and snow, below. A woman speaks through a hole in the snow-ice in heaven; talks about cooking. Black beans. Goya beans, She says they are best. She is a chef. I say I agree with her, absolutely. Of course, I figure she can’t hear me, but then she smiles…She hears me! How did she hear me from so far away?

Isn’t alone time great? Now I have this weird dream to think about.

(btw: I think this dream is related to Zoom and my having to teach remotely for so long. And I think Winter Olympics on TV are getting under my skin.

Beans? I have no idea.)