Wednesday, February 04, 2009


Every once in awhile my grandparents show up in my dreams. Well, two of them to be exact. Three out of four grandparents have died and these two like to visit. They make their appearance just before I wake up, that part of sleep that’s the hardest to remember. In fact, the more you try to remember it, the faster it slips away. Very frustrating.

The one I was perhaps least closest to, my dad’s dad, Grandpa Frank, comes most often. He’s always trying to say something. It’s just that I have a hard time hearing him and then remembering what he said. In fact, I’ve never remembered what he said. I just know he means to say it urgently.

Last night for the first time ever my mom’s mom, Grandma Eileen, came to me. I was annoyed because she did exactly what Grandpa Frank does; that is, interrupt the flow of a dream and drag me off to a different location completely to communicate something to me. My asleep brain wanted to stay with the dream, not follow Grandma Eileen around Victoria Park. And why Victoria Park? Is it the only Regina landmark she can remember? She didn’t come to Regina that often, so I guess it makes sense.

She didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked downright annoyed with me. The only thing I can think of is a blowout I recently had with my mom, her daughter. Well, too bad, Grandma Eileen. I am trapped by the emotions and rationality of a different reality than you. And it’s my life. I’m just glad she hasn’t figured out how to talk, yet. Then I’d really have it coming.

Okay, so say it’s just my psyche. The odd thing is that I wasn’t the favourite grandchild in any of these cases. In fact, I wasn’t close to any of them. Certainly not enough to be harbouring any unresolved feelings. They were just my grandparents. I never dreamed about them when they were alive. I loved them, they just didn’t feature that prominently in my life. I think most often of Granddad Peter in my waking life and he hasn’t shown up once.

So if this is all actually happening and not just my psyche, then here’s how I figure it happens: it takes practice for the dead to get into your conscious mind. Grandpa Frank is better at it because he’s been dead the longest. Then Grandma Eileen, who’s currently mastering Beginner Level and can only achieved facial expressions (and she's really good at them. I got 'annoyed' loud and clear). As I said, Granddad Peter hasn’t shown up – he died most recently. But I’m expecting him soon; he tended to be the most judgmental in real life. He probably has a lot to say to me.

And since I can't seem to talk to them in my dreams (my deficiency, I know), here's my message:

Grandparents, listen up. I know my child is currently dancing between worlds, so you probably have more access than even I do. I'm not raising it Catholic so don't even bother trying.
But Grandpa Frank, feel free to tell it stories about boxing and California. Grandma Eileen, please download your Welshcake recipe onto it, or however it works, because it'd be cool if my kid were born with an idea of how to make them the way you used to.

Thank you. R.I.P 'n all,
Love, Working

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