lucid dreams

In this morning's dream, I'm living in an apartmnet with 2 other girls. One has just been fired as a waitress from some half-assed buffet-style restaurant, and the other has some sort of mental illness - maybe schizophrenia or multiple personalities? I'm not a psychologist, so I'm only guessing here. I had just come out of the shower and I'm wearing my wet hair up a towel. We start eating ice cream with Dream Whip (yarf) and chocolate curls. There's a knock at the door. Schizophrenic Girl goes to the door, opens it just a bit, murmurs something inaudible, closes the door and comes back. Neither me or the Waitress Chick bother to ask who was at the door. I notice Waitress Chick has very very bloodshot eyes. Another knock at the door. Schizophrenic Girl repeats actions as above. About 8 (or maybe 25 times?) this scene plays itself out again and again. I finally ask, "Who is it at the door?" She says, "R~." R~ is the professor I work for. When he knocks again, I answer it. R~ hands me the file folder (yes, THE file folder; it's my dream and I have no idea what's in THE folder but it was THE folder, trust me.) I say thanks, and he turns to go, leaving the smell of shaving cream in the apartment's dingy hallway.

I'm suddenly transported back to the last time I saw my Dad. He seemed so small and grey as he curtsied at me and said, "Bye Hopey, I love you," and I remember noting how strong his hug felt in spite of him being a very little old man, the skin of his papery smooth cheek with not even a day's growth of stubble brushing against my cheek and leaving me smelling the traces of his aftershave for hours after.



I wonder how much of this has to do with the fact we're finally putting his remains to rest in 2 weeks' time, burying the plastic block full of ashes between my grandfather's and my uncle's headstones.