this is why we don't eat pizza close to bedtime.
Cuh-reepy dream.
I am playing softball, or something athletic, in my mom and dad's front yard. My mom is dead and we are having a funeral in the yard soon. She is wearing a red suit and it looks amazing with her black hair. After the funeral she is taken for burial.
I am distraught and go to a giant oval treadmill. I am trying to run as fast as I can, but the speed of the treadmill is the average of all the runners, and I am frustrated because one of them is very slow and I can not get it to go faster. I lie down and start pulling on the sides of the track, trying to speed it up somehow. Another runner tells me the oval is actually made up of several different lengths of treadmill, and I can go to another section and run faster. I take her advice and run and run and run, until I am exhausted.
I head back to my dad's, because it is time to bury Weesie. She will be wearing a purple suit and I need to drop it off so she can be changed. I am crying because of these great losses at one time. I run into my grandfather, who is taking her body to the cemetery; he's transporting her in the hatch of his old Horizon. He is wearing a butcher's apron and carrying a hacksaw.
"I had to cut her down to make her fit," he says. I am appalled but don't want to hurt him, because clearly he was acting in a way he thought was pragmatic. I think to myself, "don't judge, don't judge, don't judge." Finally I say, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Well," he says, "she had big feet."
I am playing softball, or something athletic, in my mom and dad's front yard. My mom is dead and we are having a funeral in the yard soon. She is wearing a red suit and it looks amazing with her black hair. After the funeral she is taken for burial.
I am distraught and go to a giant oval treadmill. I am trying to run as fast as I can, but the speed of the treadmill is the average of all the runners, and I am frustrated because one of them is very slow and I can not get it to go faster. I lie down and start pulling on the sides of the track, trying to speed it up somehow. Another runner tells me the oval is actually made up of several different lengths of treadmill, and I can go to another section and run faster. I take her advice and run and run and run, until I am exhausted.
I head back to my dad's, because it is time to bury Weesie. She will be wearing a purple suit and I need to drop it off so she can be changed. I am crying because of these great losses at one time. I run into my grandfather, who is taking her body to the cemetery; he's transporting her in the hatch of his old Horizon. He is wearing a butcher's apron and carrying a hacksaw.
"I had to cut her down to make her fit," he says. I am appalled but don't want to hurt him, because clearly he was acting in a way he thought was pragmatic. I think to myself, "don't judge, don't judge, don't judge." Finally I say, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Well," he says, "she had big feet."