my sister has weird dreams. she has weird dreams that she eventually remembers in the morning. she has weird dreams that she eventually remembers in the morning that she painstakingly recounts to me, unbelievably detailed, the moment i step back into our room/house, a little over ten p.m.
my sister has weird dreams about our mother. now, this dream, she said, by way of introduction -- this dream she absolutely struggled to remember, down to the last curious detail she could gather. so she could tell me. the night after.
so she said, "i had a dream about mom."
i looked at her and said, "unfair, i don't dream about her anymore."
"she was in my dream. and in my dream i knew, she wasn't supposed to be there, and though i did not ask her why -- it was kind of like telepathy, she answered anyway -- 'i'm here, so what?'"
i laughed, thoroughly amused. "she tells you off in your own dream."
"i know! it was my dream!" we laughed some more. "but anyway. in our dream we had a big house."
"unfair," i just said. can't believe i was actually jealous my mother visited her in her dreams. "she took you to the afterlife. that's what she's doing there -- building us a great big house. waiting." i found it curious, the way i had put it. i had never thought about it that way before, just at that moment.
my sister did not seem to mind. (or maybe, notice.) "so yeah, we were rich. and we had a big house. in which everything was locked! and i forgot something inside, and there were a lot of keys that all looked the same!"
that was very in-character, actually -- my mother was certainly one who'd gone crazy about locks and things that closed things semi-permanently. she so was. "you have mommy issues," i pointed out. "and rich issues. and lock issues. and trying to get back to things that have already been locked closed."
"what can i say, i'm a girl with a lot of issues," she just says. cryptic always worked.
i smirked. "curious, that detail about the similar keys. maybe it means there are a lot of ways to do something that would lead to just this one result: opening a door?"
my sister has a way of glowing, whenever she was amused or amazed or utterly struck by something i had said. which happens 95 percent of the time, because sisters are all about appreciating points of view as if you'd just seen them for the very first time. "wow. you're like my dream analyst or something."
"well, your sister tries."
she smiled. "in my dream i'd also seen old clothes we once had way back. things i don't see anymore."
"see, again with the wanting-to-see-old-things issue. things-that-aren't-there-anymore issue."
"and oh. in my dream, mommy was into woodcrafting. for charity." our mother was once a chemist, not a woods-person. "that's how we got rich."
i raised a brow. "your dreams are weird," i just said.
the conversation ends. i am left wishing i remembered my dreams too.