I’ve had many times like this, but I got sick and didn’t realize it. Maybe it was a good thing the paratransit left me stranded on the parking lot sidewalk, and snow was on the ground. Later, in my apartment, I eneded up getting weak and sick. Blake was all, “Oh no.” I threw up three times, and it wasn’t fun. Well, I feel a lot better now, but my arms are a tad weaker as I write this. I had a funny revelation.
JoAnn Owens, Jason, my ex boyfriend, his mom right? Well, JoAnn was in one of the weirdest dreams I had. No offense, but this dream was about her having a heart attack and almost dying in bed. Jason, my ex, ran to JoAnn, an old and graying woman with a husky voice and a sweet Southern accent, and watched everything unfold. Then he calls me up on Skype and says, “Beth, Mom’s dying.” I’m like, “What?” Jason is weak and skinny as a wire, not someone I’d trust, dark brown hair and no eyes at all. Girls scream when they see him, and I have done my darndest to love him, but to no avail. HE could not love me the way I loved him. He abused all I gave him, and thus we failed. I asked JoAnn in the dream, “What can I do for you?” She replied, “Oh, I don’t know. What ever you do for Jason is good enough for me.” Holding her hand, I told her I was sorry I ever tried to be in a relationship with Jason, tried to do what I did and so on. I told her I wasn’t a control freak, hat even Big Jason Speir, her boyfriend, could not take better care of Jason the way I planned to. In the dream, even Big J. had a broken heart and was enraged at his girl’s heart disease. I stood by JoAnn’s deathbed, then said, “Goodbye. I’ll tell you what, I’ll take better care of Jason than anybody ever could.” The dream fast forwards to a few years later, with Jason in a nursing home for young people, me visiting him and checking on him, then he dies too. Why the hell did I have such a weird dream? Some dreams I’ve noticed are forebodings. Joseph, the technicolored coat wearer in the Biblical stories, had dreams and the Pharaoh hired him to interpret those dreams. Like, for instance, that of the Chief Cupbearer. He told Joseph about the dream, and Joseph said, “This is what it all means.” It all came true, and so did the one of the baker and others in Joseph’s dungeon cellar. For me, dreams are often white, blurry, and forgotten. But this is not forgotten for some strange reason. Blake was in it too, standing beside me as I cried and wept at JoAnn’s deathbed, telling her that Jason was fine and that he’ll be ok. Amber, Jason’s sister, was married at the time of this dream. JoAnn said someone could take care of Amber, but I said, “Don’t trust Jason to do a thing.” A dog gone thing. Poor Jason. Poor sweet Jason, the Jason I knew was a sweetheart. Someone I thought I could trust, but then he turned sour. Sour as lemonade without sugar. What can I say now! Mrs. Owens had quite a time, and I will never forget the time I was looking at a ferris wheel, a Christmas decoration, and saw the animals there, heard it play. JoAnn’s whole house was decked out in Christmas. She had a huge set of trees, even in the bedrooms, then she had Santas and Twas the Night Before Christmas all over the place. Tell me, dear reader, should I overdo that? I don’t know.