Old people often have
mortality dreams. Mine are usually preparation dreams, or, more clearly,
non-preparation drams, in that I am not ready to die. I have to take a test in
a course I did not even know I was enrolled, or I have to go on stage and I haven’t
learned my lines. It’s never a musical dream, like I have to sing a solo when I’m
not prepared, because I’m always ready to sing a solo, as long as it’s “Bill
Grogan’s Goat.” But, clearly, the message is: You are not prepared to die.
Last night, though, I had
a different sort of mortality dream. I was walking in my brown jersey gloves,
which I always stick into my pocket on nippy mornings, just in case. But in my
dream, they were not enough. My hands were cold. “I should have worn my leather
gloves,” I thought.
Now, it’s possible to
think of this as another non-prepared dream, but I think this means I am going
to heaven, for surely there would be no need of warmer gloves in hell.
JRMcF
Johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment