I just had the most scary nightmare I’ve had in a long time. And it was really, really weird.
In my nightmare, I’m back from a date; for some reason we’re at Mom and Dad’s house, making out. I go to bed. When I wake up, it’s snowing – blizzarding, and the living room is decorated for Christmas. I can’t figure out what date it is. My dad (who is alive) keeps evading the question. Watches, Palm Pilots, computers won’t tell me; they keep giving different dates each time they are queried. My dad acts as if this is normal. Mom and Theo get home. I ask Theo and he won’t tell me; when I yell at him what the month is, he vaguely says, “…March?” My mom says, kindly, “Well, you know it doesn’t really matter, in this new system.” And I wail, “It matters to me! When I went to bed, it was June!!” I’m wondering if I’ll ever know the date again, how I could possibly go to bed and wake up months later and have nobody notice, why nobody will tell me what date it is, yelling and crying my frustration. (Finally I heard my real voice and felt that rushing sensation of waking up abruptly from a nightmare and was incredibly relieved – not even “It wasn’t real!” or “It was all a dream,” but rather “That explains it!”)
It felt absolutely real (often my nightmares have a slightly fictional quality to them that keeps me from being too afraid of them) and absolutely bewildering and frightening – and yet what does it say about me that I had a nightmare about the date?
It is Monday, June 18, 2007. It’s very weird not to take that completely for granted.
