A death in the family
On August 2, I dreamt that I was with a group of people going through the possessions of a person who had recently died. I thought it must be my grandmother's stuff (she died a couple of years ago) but I didn't recognise it and, except for my sister, I didn't recognise the other relatives taking what they wanted.
My sister took a couple of little figurines. I didn't really want anything. In fact, I found myself overwhelmed by sadness. I took three small chalices to remember "her" by. Then I woke up overcome with grief.
I knew that this was my death dream (sorry, Oliver, I know you hate it when I call it this because of the ambiguity) and I knew that it was my husband's Aunty Alice who had passed on. She was much like my grandmother: a very good woman, deeply religious, a woman who had lived a life of service to others. She was also the age of my grandmother when she passed and her health was good up until a few short months before her demise. (Thus, the association with Nanna).
Normally, my death dream isn't big on setting or plot; it's all about emotion. This dream was a little different but the feeling was the recognisable aspect.
I got out of bed feeling anxious and looked at the clock. 4.44 am. G asked me what was wrong. I didn't tell him it was the death dream just a dream that made me sad - A is his great aunt, afterall. He knows that when I have that dream it always means someone has died.
That morning his parents rang with the news. I asked G to ask them when she died but they didn't know anything other than that her heart gave out sometime last night. Later, they confirmed the time of death was between 4am and 5am.
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Alice's funeral was a 3 hour drive away. We spent the Sunday night at G's parents' place because it was at 10 am the next morning.
Lovely funeral. We learnt what a marvellous educator Alice was, how she was ahead of her time in her methods and that this had brought her acclaim internationally but she maintained modesty despite all this. She was even a minister in her Seventh Day Adventist faith during her time in the US (though Adventist women can't be ministers in Australia).
G's dad eulogised her along with others. He said she always used the expression, "You take good care now," as someone left and I realised, yes, she had.
After the funeral, we hurried back home. My son had to be at music lesson. We got home and changed cars and headed off.
As I didn't have time to change into walking clothes or grab a book, I decided that while H practised I'd go into a gift shop to see if I could find a present for my best friend.
After I'd made my purchase, I chatted with the always friendly proprietor. He asked how I'd spent my day and I told him then I said I had to get going so I could pick up my kid from his music lesson. We exchanged a goodbye and I headed towards the door. Just before I passed through he said, "You take good care now."
"A dream is a question, not an answer."
(Therapist and dreamworker Strephon Kaplan
Williams)
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