Wednesday, March 7, 2012


Monday morning, I woke up from a really memorable dream.

I was in it, and I was the 'main character' if you will, but I wasn't me . I was somebody else (I was still named Clare, though). My parents were in it, but the only sibling I still had was Meg, and she hated me. She kept trying to run over this dog with a truck because it liked me better than her.

I also had an older brother!

Most of the dream was the usual run-of-the-mill total strangeness of all my dreams, with dead mice laying everywhere and a baby ostrich that followed me everywhere. You know. The kind of things that are too bizarre to even ponder. But there was one part in that dream that's been haunting me all week. 

As I did, unfortunately, come down with the stomach bug at 2 a.m. today, I've had a lot of time lying in bed nursing my stomach back to equilibrium to mill over it. 

I can't really describe it, because it was more of a feeling that I felt in my dream; an overwhelming sense of love, loss, and forgiveness. 

My character in the dream was, for some reason, estranged from her family, and unable to forgive them, especially her older brother. 

Enter 'the horrible accident' that occasionally pops up in my dreams.

My brother's wife, Natalie, and his newborn baby daughter were in a car accident, and it was uncertain if either of them would live.

It wasn't until then that people were talking about the baby, and I learned her name; Clare. 

My brother fled the room after getting the horrible news, and I followed him. He didn't want me to see him cry, and tried to pull away from me. But I grabbed his hand; "Come here...come here..."

He gave in and wrapped his arms around me tight and hard, like he needed to hold onto me to stay on the ground. 

We held each other and cried and cried. When I could finally speak, I said,

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't even know she had  a baby. I didn't even know her name. I'm sorry. I love you."

He couldn't answer, but held me tight and cried on my shoulder. I felt his fear and his pain.

After crying some more, I asked, "Did you name her after me?

He nodded. 

"Why?" I asked.

He just shook his head. He couldn't answer. 

I don't remember how long that lasted, but it felt like an eternity. It was the most beautiful moment in any dream I can remember. It probably doesn't sound as emotionally touching or wonderful as it felt, but that's part of what's been haunting me so much about it. 

In the end, Natalie and their daughter were alright, but Natalie lost her foot (typical dream thing, right?). 

But there was so much in that one scene of that dream. Before my alarm could wake me from it at 7, I was holding the baby, and I asked my nonexistent older brother,

"So, why did you name her after me?"

I still don't know. He gave an answer, but it didn't make any sense, and I'm not sure I even remember it right.

It was the kind of dream that captivated my imagination. It's the kind of feeling I wish I could express in words. 

I hope someday I'll be able to put this haunting scene in a suitable context, but for now, it's still just a feeling. There are no words. 


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