posted December 28, 2003 03:24 PM         

then, my mother came in and said that she wanted them to make certain he was dead before we buried him, because he was breathing on his own and he had a heartbeat...also, there were old photographs laying all around the room and i picked up all that belonged to me but Cathy left hers behind

then, the next thing i know we are going to the funeral home, but first we had to look at the clothes they dressed him in, and they were so gawdy...he was wearing a pink tie and there was something on it, i said he couldn't wear that tie and again, we were in their old bedroom...he was laying on their bed and i was in the closet looking for a new tie...i found one and then we were headed to the funeral home...

we stopped at some kind of store, and she and Cheryl were getting food, for after the funeral, which was to be the next day, and Cathy got all these donuts...and mama wanted to get fried chicken...they got food and then we went in some antique store, and i kept telling Cathy about her photos in the morgue...then, mama saw what we were wearing and she told me i looked fine but Cathy and Cheryl looked horrible and needed to change, because she had an image to uphold...so, we ran back to the house for them to change...and he was with us everywhere we went...

we left and went to the funeral home, and there were lots of people there...he was in his casket but i knew he was really alive in it, and i couldn't imagine how i was going to live with myself knowing that we had buried him alive...

THEN
the scene switched and we were at a pool party, having a great time, and i noticed that we were at my late aunt and uncles house...then it was the next day, and me Cathy and Cheryl were talking about going up there as kids...some lady was with us, like a therapist, and she wanted us to go...the house we were in was right next door, so, she produced some keys and we went over there...my cousin Carolyn owns the house but lives in Florida and she doesn't want anyone going in it...but this lady had a master key and we went inside. We went upstairs and passed a room, and there was a guy in there painting and listening to classical music, he had short brown hair and was wearing a blue jean shirt...

I went into the next room and told my sisters that someone was in the house and when we walked by the room again, he was gone, the painting was there, and so was the shirt...but no guy...and I realized I had seen a ghost...i was in the house 5 minutes and had already seen a ghost...

posted December 28, 2003 11:23 PM         

I have only quickly scanned over this dream, but should be able to read more closely tomorrow night.

Hang in there!

posted December 30, 2003 05:06 AM         

Amanda, do you have any thoughts about this dream?

posted January 01, 2004 01:03 AM         

[Dec. 27th, 2003|11:57 am]
[ mood | crushed ]

I'm so glad that Christmas day has come and gone. I really got myself worked up over it and I'm not real sure why...except the death of Odell has begun to haunt me more and more. Actually, not really his death, but what led up to it. I cannot even find the words to describe how I feel about it, how I feel about the Hospice stuff and how I feel about what happens to your body when you are dying a slow death...my mother has BEGGED me to watch the video of his funeral with her, yes, the funeral home videotaped it because they knew she was in the hospital and might later what to see it, to bring closure...

So, my sister and I went up there yesterday and we broke down and watched it with her. Ironically, someone walked past the camera, that was just set up in the back, focusing on the casket, the podium where the singers and speakers would be, and their shoulder hit the camera...and moved the camera so it was just focusing on the wall and a bit of flowers. So, we heard it..but could not see it. And I think that was God. I think God was in that quick, swift motion of that person walking past that camera...I know that might sound silly...but I really believe it.

He has also allowed me to forget what Odell looked like, lying in his coffin and even lying in his recliner, right after taking his last breath...but it didn't do any good to forget, for Cathy had the photos in the car last night, because yes, her husband took photos of the flowers and etc JUST in case mom wanted to see them...see, when my real dad died, his casket had to be closed, due to the extent of his injuries, and my mother never saw him...therefore, this sortof led to her nervous breakdown because she never could imagine that he really was dead and in that casket...well, Cathy handed me the photos and I did ok until I got to the one of him up close.

Flashbacks of him, trying to get around with that walker...going to the bathroom for the last time, and asking me to call the nurse for a cath to be put in because he just couldn't go anymore...watching him wince in pain when they came to bathe him, how we looked hourly for signs of his coming death, and then the hour that we saw them...how his feet turned purple and then his legs..how his urine bag was no longer outputting...how he could no longer speak, no longer suck on that little sponge on a stick that we gave him water to drink...the horrible smell emitting from his mouth, how when we wiped his forehead with a washcloth, it left a black mark on his head, how his hand was clutched around the bolis, the button to admin his morphine meds...the sound of the "death rattle"....and how we let him go through that...yes, it's what he wanted...but damnit, it was horrible...it was worse than horrible...he starved, he thirsted to death, he couldn't stand to be touched, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even tell us he was in pain that last day...but when he could speak he was constantly telling us how much he loved us and how much he appreciated us, he'd say "I appreciate you, you know that?"

And there was nothing we could do to make it better, nothing. But the guilt of letting him suffer, like I really believe he did, is killing me now...and I am sinking in this horrible pit and I'm not alone in this, as Cathy agreed with me last night, she agreed with everything I was saying. And Buck, our stepbrother, no longer communicates with us..and we know why, because if he does, then he has to face all of this with us...if he could just come home, for a day and let us go through all of this piece by piece then maybe, maybe we could put it behind us...

ANd it's so unfair. He was a good man, a really good man. And now my mother has been robbed again of a husband. And I've been robbed again of a father. And I'm angry. I'm so very angry right now.

posted January 02, 2004 01:31 PM         

Your journal entry reflects what I have to say about the dream very well.

Life and death ... difficult, yet very much in the forefront of people's thoughts at this time of year, especially in circumstances such as yours. Odell is gone, yet he is with you all everywhere you go. He cannot be seen (eyes removed) and he cannot be heard (cannot talk), but his presence is felt still. The past, memories, experiences shared with him (photographs) are still fresh in your mind. These can be painful, yet there is a certain relief in knowing that he suffers no more ... and perhaps feeling this way brings a measure of guilt to you (burying him alive) ... quite natural. Watching him hang on for so long in such a state, and then finally burying him can make one feel as if he is being buried alive.

I have not made much progress with the second part of the dream yet. A couple of questions ...

You said "me Cathy and Cheryl were talking about going up there as kids" ... what do you mean by that? Literally changing into children?

Who do you think the ghost was? How did he make you feel?

posted January 03, 2004 10:13 PM         

Anyway, I am not sure who the guy was that sitting in that room...he almost looked like someone from the early 70's...his hair style was kinda Greg Bradyish...it was brown... his back was to the door...but when we walked back past, he was gone...and somehow I knew he was a ghost.

posted January 12, 2004 02:54 PM         

... back soon.

posted January 15, 2004 05:22 AM         

The second portion of this dream is interesting.

The therapist could be viewed as an aspect of your higher self which is guiding you towards healing or development. It is suggested that there is something in your past, your childhood (going to aunt and uncle's house), which needs to be re-visited and confronted. Your higher self has the "key" to unlock this portion of your past, so that you may the view the "ghost"/energy-pattern which resides there. The "ghost" seems to have something to do with higher functioning (upstairs, painting, classical music), perhpas a blockage in this area due to some childhood experience ... perhaps. I am not really certain.

But this "ghost" would at least seem to be related to the first dream sequence in some way. If so, he could have something to do with problems in the healing process anent Odell's passing (and not necessarily just your problems, could be the family in general), something stemming from the past that is interfering with healing, blocking proper emotional release. The "ghost" could represent a higher vibration that may be lacking, or is needed in some way.

Does any part of this make sense in the context of your life?

posted January 15, 2004 11:06 AM         

so...yes, I can see how this fits in perfectly....

thank you again Ra...

posted January 19, 2004 01:13 PM         

Would it not be something if your father was/is an artist of some kind? In the dream the ghost is creating art. If your father is not an artist, this could be a suggestion that the "ghost" is part of your creation, ie your father. Could be.