I am working on two different “Day of the Dead” beadings
I’m not sure why (maybe that’s why), but my dreams have been dreams of restoration, or the wish for restoration of the past. Lost relatives, abandoned career, old friends. I must need closure. I wake up stressed, as if I were really there.
Can we fix the past by dreaming so? If only…
I’m walking with Grandma and Bob near their old house in Pleasant Valley.
Out in the light, I stop her and say, “Your face is so unlined! How did you do that?” (I don’t see one wrinkle.) Grandma and Bob alive, she looking youthful, like her portrait.
They go on. They had moved to an apartment. I forget to get their new address.
I walk on.
I am talking to someone. I thought it was Bob. Standing beside a car, I hadn’t looked up yet.
I start to look up. I see a man with long, thick, curly red hair. He flips it up and back off his smiling face. I gasp… It’s John! It’s John, but he’s younger and strong, healthy and muscular and looks like Matt a little. He’s actually cute.
I say, “Oh, my God! What are you doing here?” He’s surprised to see me too. There doesn’t seem to be any animosity there. Seeing him like that, his health restored, was shocking!
A woman in the car is restless. The others look like gangsters — a drug ring or something. They have to go. They speed off. What has he gotten himself into?
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