Of Sorrows Buried

She dreamed that she and her dear departed sister surprised their older sister with a very long distance, impromptu and unannounced visit. The older sister was busy in a shop that turned out to be hers and her husband’s. He was sitting, far in the back, behind a counter that was visible through a window on the wall there and saw his wife’s two sisters coming in so tipped his reading glasses down to watch what would happen next.
The two younger sisters said, “We’re moving here to where you are so that we can all be together again.”
The older sister could be intuited to be pleased even though her extremely subtle smile was barely noticeable. She wasn’t one to show emotion.
The visiting sisters who intended to move there, or were already moving — it’s hard to tell some of the minute details in dreams — started waltzing around her shop that only had some wonderful things lined up on or near walls like it was a gallery of sorts and only a few things resting on ledges and they both got excited at all the space still left in the shop that seemed available for them to bring in all their own collectibles, art and personally produced things for selling and helping their older sister and her husband get off the ground better — or so that’s where their minds went — the two who wanted so to move there and stay. They announced their excitement to their older sister.
The older sister hushed them like there was a spy in their midst and she didn’t want her real intentions known yet. There was some city resistance or a zoning issue pending intimated, but not loud enough for any spy to hear. Apparently she wouldn’t be altogether opposed to their ideas if and/or when any hindrances were out of the way.
The dream evoked a grand sense of fulfillment, of sorrows buried and fences mended and returned all the fantastic and wonderful feelings of youth and playing with her sisters to the dreamer’s soul.
She wondered if that was what she was wishing for in real life — to be near her living sister.
But, she’s read that some well-known psychologist, Jung or Freud, said that the person dreaming is everyone in their own dreams. That may very well be why some dreams can seem so good because the thoughts of others are really the thoughts of the dreamer and the dreamer can ‘write’ their dreams as they might a novel — how they want things to be.
Later in the day, long after waking from the dream, her childhood friend called and they drummed up their own ideas of moving to closer proximity of each other as sisters might. They were sisters that had chosen each other in freshman year of high school and had, all their lives, wanted to be more a part of each other’s daily life. Life gets in the way — college, marriage and a family for one, work and worry for the other had wedged them to be farther apart and on their own, but they had stayed in touch. Now that they were older, aches and pains were making them think that things might not should be long put off and how nice it would be to have someone like a sister to depend on some.
Age is a funny thing, though funny is a poor word to use. Funny queer. It can make you think you have to give up dreams. There are lots of things that one is well advised to give up — lots of things that are really only baggage at a point. Like, she’s probably never going to fly to the moon or be famous — though that is a thing that no one can really know — becoming famous. Flying to the moon is rather out of the question, but being famous might not be. The reasons for wanting to be famous might be different the older one gets. Late in life it might just be that being famous would pay for all the medical bills that Medicare won’t.
It would be nice to think that there aren’t ever going to be any serious medical bills because one has taken such good care of themselves that they are healthy and well enough to avoid them — but it is starting to seem that that is only a likely scenario if one started young or can figure out how to be their own placebo.
Learning to be one’s own placebo is a worthwhile endeavor that might be better put in front of flying to the moon or any hope that might be found in what sisters can be in dreams.


Waiting On Monsoons

Oh, oh, the heat and fatigue of heat —
buckling bones that try as they might to resist
falling on the bed to rest.

Fan blowing air to cool
the evaporating loss
of water from her body.

It isn’t time for sleep, but a nap will do.
Soft pillow under head for support
to watch a movie made in snow —
a blatant attempt to try to switch out thinking.

A nap can travel quickly to the
darkened evenings slowly creeping
closer to mid afternoon.

Moon lighting a night that passes quickly
for birds to start their chorus practice early —
as soon as they sense any sign of advancing light.

A lively song, a happy song a great start to any day
or soothing end to one that wouldn’t quit.

The mornings are starting to cool a little —
enough to fall asleep in
but not enough to keep the plants from buckling too,
still waiting on Monsoons.

waiting on monsoons