We all have them. Even me. I remember a lot of them, too. They mostly have the same general theme, which is being kind of lost but trying to help someone else find their way.

Dream interpretation is something I don’t usually go for. It is my belief that dreams are very personal to the dreamer and whatever it means (if anything) is something only that person would be able to figure out. Books on dream interpretation may say, for example, that water means physical sex. To the dreamer, it might mean a mortal fear of water and not something sexy at all. My therapist always wants me to tell her what I think my dreams mean. I have no idea. Maybe a book would help.

My dreams start in public places. A restaurant, maybe. Or an open air flea market. I’m usually alone. Sometimes my dad is there and I talk to him for a little while. Sometimes, I know my wife is there but I can’t see her. Or I can’t see her face. She’s never near me, though.

At some point I start walking and trying to figure out where I’m going. Usually trying to find an exit. The surroundings gradually change. A big shopping mall might turn into a small town tree-lined street, for example. It’s never a sudden change like walking through a door. Somewhere along the line I’ll meet someone else (usually a woman) who is also lost and I’ll invite the to come along with me. Every once in a while I’ll be attracted to the woman and start thinking about making advances. Suddenly, they will have a significant other. Seriously. Even in my dreams I have no luck.

Then the alarm goes off and I wake up.

One time I dreamed that there was a door in my (very small) apartment that I never noticed. I opened the door and found the ‘rest’ of my apartment. It was huge with at least two floors and a fireplace. I can’t even tell you how annoyed I was when I woke up and realized that I wasn’t missing 3/4 of my apartment.

Make of that what you will.



I’m sure that there are certain people who believe that I don’t think about my dad very much. They’d be wrong. I don’t talk about him much or post on Facebook about him. One of the reasons why I don’t talk about him is because I think other people have gone through deaths of their own and don’t need me to air out my own.

This may be uncharitable of me. It might be that it’s just the thing that other’s like to know about it because it creates a kind of bond. Kinship through hardship. That sort of thing. But, as we’ll all see later on, I don’t think I think like other people.

Another person I don’t talk about is my wife. She’s been gone for almost a decade, but we didn’t have a common group of people we both knew so there aren’t a lot of people for me to talk to about her. And, I’ll be honest here, she pretty much made my life very difficult. That doesn’t mean, though, that I didn’t love her.

I also don’t talk about my cat. You may laugh, but my cat was the most important ‘person’ in my life for a number of years. He was a very good friend.

The most important reason why I don’t talk about them is because I miss them. A lot. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them in one way or another.

That may seem like a lot of loss to go through. It’s about half, but they were the closest to me.

Now, I’m not saying this is the best way to deal with grief. I certainly wouldn’t recommend it. Hopefully you have people to talk to and to support you and make you feel better when you’re feeling down and low.