A glass iMac, and my mom needs to go away

May 13, 2009

I had a vivid dream this morning that I was in my bedroom, and my dad walks in and says that they need to take my mother somewhere, to the hospital I think. I’m not going with him, but for some reason he wanted me to know this.

Just as I knew he was about to walk in, I remember thinking that I was going to be proud for him to see my computer. I have a computer that looks like an iMac, but it’s somehow entirely see-through, like it’s made of glass, a glass see-through iMac. But he’s too busy to notice, and I’m also surprised and shocked by his news.

My mom walks in shortly after this, and she’s not crying, but she says this is something she has to do. She doesn’t seem like she’s going to cry either, which I expect. She’s just firm, resolved, determined … again, it’s just something she has to do.

In the physical world where I’m typing this blog entry, my mother is not normally like this at all, but this woman in the dream, it was her, and that’s what makes it more unusual as I’m awake here thinking about it.

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