last night i dreamed of my grandfather. first i was in greenwich, or france, or some combination of both, and i was walking down cobblestone streets and stopping in small shops. then the dream moved to a river and i was standing in a houseboat, which initially belong to my friend val whose job i took over when she left our office to move down to nc, and then it belonged to whitty, who also left to move south. it was hot and humid, and the sun was extremely bright. why was i dreaming of people who had moved away frome me?
then we were in a large house or museum... whitty was back there and she was telling me that i'd better eat the chocolate in little bowls on the tables before it was all gone. she disappeared, and then i was noticing the layout of the rooms, and there was beautifully hand-crafted furniture that i wanted to commission because the artist was so inexpensive.
a huge chest of drawers took up an entire wall in front of me; it was carved wood painted blue, and the center of the chest curved outwards in a large bubble onto which was carved a face, painted a deep red. it was a person, or a caricature of the sun or the moon. it was beautiful and earthy and calm.
and my grandfather was there and i started crying because i missed him so terribly, and felt that i'd never appreciated him enough when he was alive. he told me how proud of me he was, and how much he knew i loved him. or at least, he said something which i don't remember, but it meant: i love you and i know you love me.
sometimes language in dreams is startlingly clear; and sometimes it's confused or unspoken, but you remember the essence of what was communicated.
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