A Sweet Dream Saves The Day

            This summer has had its ups and downs. The biggest down is that two of my good friends have lost their adult sons, both from acute illnesses. I feel really sad for them because I understand their grief at the deepest level. I, too, lost my son in 2013. All I can do is say, “I’m so sorry,” and give them space, unless, of course, they need to talk. They know I’m here.

            Beyond that, on a different level, this summer, I have been struggling to understand the anger, bigotry, and absolute hate that have bubbled to the surface among so many people in our country. Realizing that I have misjudged the character of many, fellow citizens makes me more than sad; it makes me sick. Seriously. Even among those who espouse to believe in God, who go to church on a regular basis, and who “believe” in the fundamentals on which the USA was founded, prejudice and hatred have reared their ugly heads.

 I’m not a church-goer, but I grew up with very devout parents who taught me right from wrong and who led me to believe that all people deserve a chance, that judging others is a fruitless endeavor, and that we should treat others as we would like to be treated. (Be ye kind. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Judge not that thou be judged.) See, I remember. I certainly don’t pretend to be perfect. I’ve made my mistakes too, but I like to believe that what values my parents taught me are at the core of my character. And so, I wonder. What in the hell is wrong in our country? Has the proverbial moral compass gone extinct?

            The current political cycle, I’m certain, has riled folks into a virtual frenzy, and while I find the whole mess disgusting, perhaps it’s a good thing. At least I know what I’m dealing with when I venture away from my computer into the world around me. I’ve come to expect enraged drivers who can’t get to where they are going fast enough; I’ve come to expect that I’ll be flipped off if I take too long pulling out of a parking space; I’ve come to expect hearing profanity between strangers in the grocery store; I’ve come to expect rudeness from customer service agents. I could go on, but won’t. The point is, that I’m more than a bit frustrated at what I see around me, and I do observe closely. I’m a writer.

            This leads, finally, to one of the reasons I wanted to write this today. I was gifted recently with a break in the craziness. In keeping with the first paragraph of this somewhat rambling blog, every day I am a little sad. That does not mean that I don’t function in life or that I am constantly unhappy. It simply means that I know a little chunk of my heart has been torn away and from time to time I feel the pain. That’s why it was so cool to have gone to sleep a couple of nights ago and to have dreamed about my son, Alex. This was not my first dream of him, but it’s been awhile. It was as if I received a prolonged, long-awaited visit. He was there, along with his friend Shawn, who was trying to rearrange our house, and amid the clutter, I lost my purse and car keys. So, yes, the dream had components of absurdity, but beyond that, it was filled with happy chatter, fun adventure, hugs, and love. I woke up refreshed, and yes, happy. This dream was one I wanted to crawl back into the next night. I wasn’t able to do so, but I do know, it will come again. I look forward to the next, sweet dream and another respite from reality.