Posted by: gdevi | November 11, 2015

Dream 7583

In my dream, I am back in Delhi at my aunt’s house and my cousin–her daughter– and her husband are also there. (They are actually living in Canada).  So we are all in the house and in my dream I know that my aunt’s youngest grandchild–my cousin’s daughter–has died (which is actually true–she was twelve and died of a rare form of pediatric blood cancer last year). My presence in the house is somehow tied to the death of this child. Maybe I am visiting them to pay my respects for the child who has passed. They all talk to me but it is clear that I am holding up an imploded scene of grief. So I decide to walk through the house and I walk to the back bedroom which I had shared with my cousin when we were kids. Unlike how it used to be–it used to be a beautiful bedroom–it is now completely disheveled–and I notice that there is a bottle from the chemists that says my cousin’s name and “pills for depression” written on it. In my mind, I know that my cousin will never recover from her child’s death and that these pills are for her to give her some sense of normalcy. So I come back to the drawing room and I find my aunt sprawled across the day bed her head hidden inside her arms and her long hair covering her back. From the distance I think it is my mother. She is prostrate with grief at the passing of this child. I walk through the rest of the house searching for something and find that on a low wooden table there is one picture of the child–it is a black and white picture of a child that I have never seen before–certainly not my cousin’s daughter who has died–it is a generic picture of a small Indian school age girl from the ’70s in uniform skirt and shirt and hair braided in two pigtails on either side–it could even be me– and that my cousin had put one single chembaka flower in some water in a small marmalade jar and placed it in front of the photo as a make shift altar for this dead child. Suddenly in my dream I offer to take them all to visit this lake in Pennsylvania. We are in my car and there is also a little boy in the car. He could be a little boy associated with my aunt or my cousin–my cousin has sons as well but it is not clear if this little boy is her son–her sons in life are all grown up and in Canada–or whether this little boy is my brother’s son, Shambhu, who is in Houston. So anyway we are going to the lake in my car when we stop at a flower shop. The little boy gets out of the car and runs to this table outside the flower shop and picks a single sprig of some sort of purple flower–it could be lilac or fox gloves–and forcibly takes it from the old man who finally sort of laughs and lets him keep it. We walk through the store and I notice that there are beautiful decorated pots to keep flowers–and in my dream I think they look like the plates Nic gave me for my birthday. Handpainted ceramic flower vases. So the little boy takes the sprig of flowers from the man and we are back in my car in Pennsylvania. We come to a perpendicular road where we have to make a right turn. In the distance through the rocks and the bridge I see the lake far away.

Amazing dream. I know exactly what it means and why I dreamed it. Freud was so right in his methodology to interpret dreams. Thanks, Freud.

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