Walking up the sidewalk to a home I used to live in many years ago,
The wooden door swings open and my eyes adjust to what was once familiar, is now quite changed.
As I enter my past home of 18 years, I notice, there are many rooms and hallways.
Winding around a few corners, I stop in what appears to be the center of this elongated home in a narrow room with hardwood floors with white ship lap walls.
The picture-less walls are painted in Navajo White. The room’s contents contain one azure blue two-seater fabric sofa along the right side of the room with a rectangular window above it. There are no curtains. The window frame is thin, black metal.
Just beyond the position of the sofa, is a four-legged antique kitchen table, circa 1960 with a clay red top and a single seam in the middle.
The ceiling, white bead board. There are no rugs on the floor, nothing on the table or sofa. There’s a view from the narrow window of the treetops only and the house is silent.
A friend of mine now lives here. I’m quite surprised at how she has each room designated for a particular purpose. A living room. A writing room. A kitchen. A bedroom, bathroom. I’m asking myself what is this room? It finally dawns on me, this is the waiting room.
This dream of the Waiting Room represents to me a time of introspection, a time to be still, a time to evaluate purpose and direction of life. Is a call to slow down and pause. A time of transition.
©Anita Adams 12/2017
I’ve been working on crafting a Dream I had last year sometime, and although it is not finished the essence of it is this:
My Last Day on Earth – A Dream
In the dream, it is my last day on earth. Friends and family are somehow gathered to a potluck to wish me farewell. It’s evening, and I’m waiting with the hostess at a house, circa 1950’s on top of a Town Mountain. As I wait in the house, I am pacing in a dimly lit dining room, walking and gazing out a bank of three windows. Everything in the house is either white, gray or brown. Pine wooden floors, white shiplap walls, brown antique wooden door. There’s a sense in me and others of peace and a knowingness that all is well. Being a woman of faith, I understand death is inevitable.
As friends and family gather bringing casseroles, beverages, vegetable plates, salads and desserts, they enter through the brown wooden door and place their dishes on a long white wooden dining table. We look at each other and smile in silent reverence, as I continue to walk gently in front of the windows, and it dawns on me that this will also be the last sunset I will see here on earth.
Two of my daughter’s childhood friends come in with a magenta card and hand it to me. As I read the card, filled with reflections of what I’ve meant to them in their life, I notice it also contains $98. The $98 puzzles me and still is a questionable piece of this dream. Just as I finish reading the card, hugging and loving on them, I notice the light in the room begins to change to a glow.
An urgency rises in me to get to the bank of three windows to view my last sunset. This is how it appeared to me in the dream (I took this photo in 2011):
Feeling grateful to see these rainbow hues of my last sunset on earth, another question arises in me before the sun sets. It is this: “How do I wish to live or leave this day?”
©Anita Adams 2017