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Dream of My Mother Being Dead

By Pam Walatka

October 30, 2016

Art: Lady of Duality by Rick Ortega, Painted Wood Productions

Last night I dreamed this story.

I was in Los Altos, on my way to teach my yoga class in Los Altos Hills. I saw my sister standing on the corner, with two dogs on leashes, plus an infant boy and a toddler girl. They were getting ready to cross the expressway. I saw she needed help. I helped her across the expressway, and then we were traveling in my car.

We got out somewhere near Burlingame, and then walked around. Suddenly I remembered I was on my way to class. I tried to find my car to get back. The streets turned dream-like, colors and shapes changing inexplicably, could not find my car. I tried to call my boss, Sarah G, to ask her to start my class, but my phone would not go to the phone app.

I tried to get Siri to call Sarah G, but my phone would not go to Siri. Then my whole phone turned from English to Italian. I kept walking, going through the courtyard of an old-folks home. Then I remembered my student-friend Randee would start my class without me. Then I was having a wonderful lunch with my mom, in the outdoor patio of a good restaurant, with flowering bushes beside our table. My lunch was delicious! An oversized crispy croissant stuffed with savory spinach filling, with slits in the pastry showing the filling. Mom was sampling off my plate. We were having a great time, but then I said, "Mom, how can I be having lunch with you? You died in November."

She laughed (her sense of humor was amazing).

Then I said, in the dream, "Wait. Maybe this is a dream. Which means I am not late for yoga."

That hurt her feelings, because it meant I cared more about being on time for yoga than having lunch with my deceased mom. I leaned over to hug her and she instantly, in my arms, went from live to dead to bones to dust.

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