Ever since Maddie passed I have hoped each night that I would dream of her. To see her sweet, smiling face once again, even in a dream, would be a great comfort. I have often heard those who have lost a loved one speak of the joy of seeing their beloved in their dreams. In fact, the Beatles’ song “Let It Be,” which Heather and I played at Maddie’s memorial, was written by Paul McCartney the day after he dreamt of his mother who died of breast cancer when he was fourteen.
Unfortunately, until last night I have remembered none of my dreams, and last night’s was, well, bizarre. In it I was a boxer who had trained very hard for a long time in preperation for a boxing match against Sylvester Stallone. When I got to the boxing arena the night of the big fight, however, I was told that I would not be squaring off against Sylvester “Rocky” Stallone, but instead Gary Busey. (Side note: I worked on a film with Busey once, which makes this dream even weirder. Oh, and for the record, Busey is as “unique” as he seems.) I was not happy about having to fight Busey instead of Stallone, but I got into the ring with him nonetheless. Things only got worse…when the bell rung Busey ran up to me kicking instead of punching. I yelled at the referee that he was cheating, that there was no kicking in boxing, but he wouldn’t listen. From here my recollection of what happened sort of fizzles out.
I’m sure all the armchair Carl Jungs out there could have a field day figuring out what that one means. Of course the meaning likely is not that hard to decipher…in my dream I had worked very hard to prepare for a specific future – fighting Stallone in a normal match – but suddenly that future was pulled out from under me without explanation just as my future with Maddie was.
I’m sure I will dream of Maddie before too long, so I won’t sweat it too much. I will, however, request that the dreamweaver, should he be unable to send me a visit from Maddie tonight, at least keeps ol’ Busey out of my dreams.