A new day.

So I just woke up from a dream. Actually - I'd have to call it a nightmare. But it wasn't one of those hand-held cams shaking while running through the forest while bloodthirsty vampires chased you nightmares. It was one of those this is so real that I can feel the humidity and I can feel my body begin to shake with the reality that this is actually happening and I can't believe it.

In my dream I was going about my normal routine. And we seemed to be making plans for my mom's funeral. Which is fairly normal, I suppose; but it's not something I ever considered normal. Me and death or plans for death are not good friends. We don't hang much. I try to avoid it at all costs. Anything death related, actually. I try to keep at a great distance. Anyhow - so there we were talking about this church and that dress and these flowers and what not. All this with her very involved in the conversation - as if it was a normal day with slightly abnormal content.

Then, in my dream - I walk into the church. I think I was going to meet the Pastor (it was actually at First Baptist, which was bizaare) and then BAM. He was in a black suit with a white corsage - there we all sorts of people crammed into this small cubilcled office. All of them frantically getting ready for something.

He looks at me and says - are you ready? "For what?" I respond, innocently. "The service, of course!" He says - and pins a corsage on whatever t-shirt I decided to wear that day. And next thing you know we are lining up in a hallway getting ready to enter into my mother's funeral.

I was shaken to the core. I remember in my dream trying to process the reality of this while looking at three other pastors who were debating whether or not they should switch socks because the one was wearing a brown suit with brown shoes and maybe the socks should be black (a conversation I would totally be in by the way in the same circumstance). The door swung open and we headed out to the venue in our thrown together processional (the location by the way changed to what appeared to be the America stage at Epcot - I always wondered if there was some sort of Stargate/wormhole like portal between First Baptist and Epcot...).

I was shocked. Then it hit me - In my dream we were making the plan because we knew she was dying. Then I got so busy with the logistics of it all that first of all wasn't there when she actually left. And then, worst of all, I couldn't even remember the last words I spoke to her.

I struggled to make my way down the processional aisle. Literally forcing one foot in front of the other. Then began to shake and cry out loud, "I don't want to say good bye to my mommy!" In absolute shock at what was happening around me.

Even as I write this I weep.

Thankfully, it was then that I woke up.

It was just a really bad dream.

Then the revelation.

She is dying. We are all dying. No matter how hard I try to distance my self from it; it will embrace me and everyone around me. Am I so deeply mired in the denial of it that I don't allow that reality to color the interactions with those I see, know and and love? As the grandfather clock goes off in the other room I am reminded that I don't know when the end will come for anyone, but I can be certain that it will come. I have to reevaluate myself yet again. I can;t let that dream become my reality.

I think of my dad. It's a strained relationship at best. I don't want my kids to meet his new wife. I don;t want to hear them ask me if they should call her "grandma." I don't want to argue about who did what to who and simply rationalize away the pain of their divorce. But I would feel so much worse if something were to happen to him and I didn't take the God given moments that I have to at least tell him that I love him. Even though I disagree with so many things - I love him and need to tell him that.

I think of myself. I have just given up lately. I eat whatever I want, whenever I want. I haven't exercised since the 80's (when ankle warmers were in - I looked great in ankle warmers. It's just awkward now). I know that though I may distance the end in my mind, I am not doing much physically to keep it away. The cheese and butter will one day win if I don't do something. I rationale it all away - I haven't really gained weight, I've been the same pant size for years; blah, blah, blah.

When I started this blog thing, I kept having these "new me" thoughts.

Lately I keep thinking how depressing it is that the new me looks and acts so much like the old me.

Maybe it's now that I wake up.