Mom & Me Journals Histories: 1999 - 2001

    I had a miscellaneous dream about a week ago. A car in which my mother and I were being driven (by Nicolas Cage; I have no idea why he appeared in the dream; I haven't seen a movie with him in it for a long time; oh, but there were the previews, a few months ago, of Captain Corelli's Mandolin on TV; that must be the source) down an unidentified mountain pass went over a cliff and fell through a steep, deep ravine. The car turned upside down in flight. Both my mother (who was in the back, I was in the front passenger's seat) and I lost our bearings and were falling standing upside down. Nicolas Cage was strapped into his seat. It was not disturbing. I said, "Well, it looks like we're not going to get out of this one." The car crashed at the bottom. All of us not only survived the crash but landed on the ground next to the crash site standing (right side up) unharmed. The ravine, by the way, was one of those refreshingly wooded and watered ravines that "comes up" out of nowhere; the kind that makes you wish you were a bear and lived there. I was contemplating in my sleep how amazing this was when the telephone rang and awoke me. Although I wish the dream hadn't been interrupted I'm glad I remembered it. I use the memory of the dream crash, now, as a protective fetish.

    This morning it occurred to me, as I was once again wrestling internally with my inability to keep my mother awake after breakfast, that it seems appropriate that she brought me in while I slept and I am taking her out while she sleeps. Later, as I was thinking about the process of meditation (which, incidentally, is something I don't practice and don't think I should be practicing even as I think it is certainly valuable to those who do practice it) I considered that I am augmenting, through her, now, my understanding of no-thing; doing no-thing, becoming no-thing, being no-thing.
    I also like the idea of accompanying her at least until she has fulfilled her lesson plan here.