This pandemic (and all its ripple effects) is a bad dream for many of us, and an out-and-out living nightmare for others. If medical personnel are able to sleep at all, it's probably a miracle.
But the kind of dream I want to focus on this morning is the kind that we experience when we are sleeping. In my adult life, most of my dreams have had the same theme: I am trying to get from Point A to Point B, and simply cannot get there. The details may differ from dream to dream, but the frustration and hopelessness remain the same. I wake up, sometimes in tears, feeling like I have been put through a wringer. A friend once suggested that maybe this is a metaphor for my whole life, and the minute she said it, I saw that she was right.
The granddaddy of these dreams, and perhaps the most symbolic, is one I had maybe six or eight years ago. It began with my having been accepted into the choir of St. Thomas Church, Fifth Avenue, in New York City. Even in the dream, this was quite shocking, because they had (and still have) only a men and boys' choir. I was so thrilled, and took the subway to the station at 50th St. and 6th Avenue, intending to walk the few blocks over to the church. But when I exited onto 6th Avenue, I entered a post-apocalyptic world. The high-rises around me were either dark or had collapsed, there was rubble on the sidewalks and streets, and there were hardly any cars or streetlights. The few people on the streets looked emaciated and grim. I slowly made my way over to the church around obstacle after obstacle, and felt enormous relief when I walked up the front stairs. However, when I entered the church, I didn't see its incomparable reredos (altar screen) in front of me. I was in a crammed little vestibule with many doors. I opened one, and started down a long hallway. In the distance, I could hear the very faint sound of the choir practicing, and I went into a panic that I was late. Someone appeared in the hallway, and I asked them to please help me find the choir room. They indicated a door, and I opened it and walked down the stairs. At the bottom, I entered yet another warren of long hallways and dead ends. I asked another person who showed up, "Where is the choir room?" They pointed to a door, and upon opening it, I found that there was indeed a choir practicing, but it was a high school or college group. Panicking now, I fled down yet another hallway and encountered a member of the clergy, and said, "Please, I have been accepted into the choir, where are they practicing?" He said, "I don't think so, my dear," and turned around and walked the other way. I glanced at my watch, and realized that not only had I missed the rehearsal, I had missed the entire church service. I slumped down on the floor and burst into tears...and woke up literally crying.
Last night's dream was no where near as symbolic, but I am puzzling over it nonetheless. I was in Utica, New York. Why Utica, and not my hometown of Schenectady? The only thing I can think of is that a recent crossword puzzle clue was "Mohawk River city", five letters. Utica. Anyway, I was evidently visiting friends but was due, that night, to take Amtrak's Lake Shore Limited train west. I'm not sure if I was heading out here to Duluth or what. In any event, my efforts to arrange for a ticket and find out the time of the train were dashed at every turn. I lost my phone. My friends' phones weren't working. I opened up a laptop computer, and my hands didn't seem to be able to type out the word "Amtrak". When I was finally successful with that, the words literally melted off the screen. Finally, with dark night settling in, I gave up and started to walk through the cold, snowy streets. My bag was too heavy, and, yes, I woke up just as I had collapsed, exhausted onto the sidewalk.
We seem to have entered a time where getting from Point A to Point B will often be considerably harder than before. Indeed, I may have woken up this morning in tears, but I did wake up, and healthy. I am very, very thankful for that, and thankful that I can continue to try to make sense of it all. Our nighttime dreams may seem less important at a time like this, but I still think they are trying to communicate with us. And if I can figure out why I am still having these kinds of dreams, I'll let you know!
