Dreams have been bothering me lately, waking me up out of a sound sleep and leaving me in a fitful state aching with sadness. What does it mean?
This morning my mother was in my house saying how in the present bad economic circumstances, no federal workers have left their jobs (I am a federal employee). My sister closest in age to me was expressing her disgust at this as she walked across my living room, when she accidentally stepped on my black lab retriever who was lying on the floor.
As was his wont when he found himself underfoot, Bert immediately jumped up seeking assurance. He found me and attached himself to me, wriggling his body furiously.
I noticed for the first time how this good ol' boy's black shiny coat was streaked with grey. The poor old fellow was finally showing his age.
It saddened me to see the physical manifestation of Bert's impending date with mortality. But my mom died before the millennium, my sister last visited me eight years ago, and Bert was a family member before my oldest son, who is in his twenties, was born.
Dogs don't live that long, do they? Yet my loving four-legged friend was pressing against my legs, moaning in his need for me to pet him.
Even in my nocturnal state I knew that dogs don't live to be twenty. In my befuddled state I remembered that Bert passed on before I left Colorado to attend law school in 1987.
This jarring dissonance caused me to wake up. I was not happy as I lay awake under my covers in my empty house, eyes pressed closed.
I wish these memories wouldn't come around anymore.