Conversations
“Grandma, when will it stop? When will I stop talking to them in my dreams?”
“I don’t know, dear, I don’t know. Maybe I’m not the right person to talk to about this?”
“But how long? They’ve been gone for years. In the dream I was in the house with them and everyone from when I was a kid. They were all there. Everyone who is gone—one way or another gone. Even the old tree that was long gone…”
“Um… Let me see. How long did it take before your mom stopped talking to me?”
“Yes, that might be helpful. How long did it take?”
“I don’t think it ever really ended. The conversations changed. She stopped asking me for advice and started to just tell me stories.”
“Stories?”
“About you and your brother and your father. She loved him very much; you know that don’t you? They argued, but they always made up. Not like me and grandpa. We held grudges.”
“I don’t really remember him.”
“You wouldn’t. He died when you were four.”
“I remember him taking me to the corner store and buying clay. It came in packages with four colors, cut in sticks like butter—gray, brown, red and a chalky tan. The modeling clay was hard as a brick. He softened it up so I could use it.”
“That’s a memory! A good one…. I don’t have many good memories of him. He was a hard man to love. He wanted so much more than life gave him and he was so much older than me. We didn’t have much in common.”
“Then why did you marry him?”
“You know why. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I know, but tell me anyway.”
“You want me to tell you a story?”
“Yes.”
“See this is what it was like with your mother. We’d tell each other stories. Or she’d really tell me stories, while thinking of me telling her stories…. You know that I’m not the right one to answer your question. You know that don’t you?”
“Of course, I know you’re dead too. I’m dreaming of you and talking to you in the dream about a dream I had where I was talking to my mother at a party in the house we left when I was 16 and filled with people and pets long, long gone…”
“A dream conversation inside a dream with conversations…”
“Yes. I’m confusing myself. It’s one of those nesting dolls, but it’s a dream within a dream within… until I get lost.”
“When you wake up, and I mean really wake up, not wake up to a conversation with someone else who is long gone, I think you should talk to a live person about all of this.”
“Like a therapist?”
“Or a friend. Just talk to a friend. If they are honest, they’ll tell you they’ve done the same. This is not insanity. This is humanity. This is the part of the human being that is not animal. The dog doesn’t dream about talking to his mommy dog.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No, but we, as human beings pretend that dogs do in order to make them more like us.”
“Anthropomorphism…”
“You’re waking up.”
“How do you know that?”
“Big words…”
“Oh, I…”
“I’m always here for you. I’m inside you in your memories and in your dreams. You’ll find me when you need to talk. But I urge you to talk to someone alive, someone outside of your head, outside of your heart. It’s a big heart, but you need to let someone else in on these conversations.”