I can’t remember the exact show, but I remember my sister telling me about a segment she’d heard on public radio about subjects people shouldn’t talk about – because no one really cares – and dreams was one of them.
I’m guessing it was a humor piece on This American Life, but I could be wrong.
While dreams may be an annoying or boring topic for some, I can’t stop thinking about the one I woke up from this morning.
I was sitting next to my Mom in a traditional New England meeting house. We were in the balcony. The place was packed, with what I’m assuming were towns people. While the setting and the crowd looked…dated…my Mom and I were definitely modern. She was wearing a headset, producing the whole thing.
Someone was on stage, talking. Loudly. Sharply. But I couldn’t really see or hear what was happening. I was too wrapped up in my guilt.
I was snugged close to my Mom because I’d just said something – to someone – that I wasn’t suppose to. And now, I was scared it would mean trouble for her.
I’m not being elusive with the details. I don’t remember them. I can’t track down what I did, or said, or how it went, just how I felt. Scared and sorry.
I wanted to tell my Mom, whatever trouble I felt coming (that I had caused), but somehow – couldn’t.
Then, without me saying a word, she kissed me. Said it was fine. Whatever it was, it was fine. She would take care of it.
And I woke up thankful for Moms, and all of their expansive caring.