Clashing

I woke up Sunday morning with a dream right on the edge of recall.  I was all dressed up and alone in a hotel bar, waiting for Tim.  We were supposed to be going to a wedding reception together and I sat alone nursing my cocktail while watching others around me with scrutiny.

One woman was on her phone talking loudly enough for me to hear but I did not care what she had to say. Another woman rose to greet her partner, him placing a light but cold kiss on her cheek. Where had he just come form?  Why was I still waiting while her lover was already there?

I grew impatient quickly and something in me realized that my man was not going to show up and I woke up, missing him, yet he was right next to me in the bed.

It is funny how sometimes we can miss someone even though they are are right there.

In another part of the dream I was wearing a favorite hot pink dress and standing in front of something bright red.  I was about to cry because I was “clashing” against the garish background.

I wanted to run.  Faster than I ever have.

I thought of my mother and how she would never have liked those colors together.  How so many times when we went shopping together when I was a girl she said my outfit absolutely could not clash.  I knew that was a big fashion faux pas in her eyes.  I could not let her down.

I used to have a book about dreams.  You could look up something basic that your dream was about and it would tell you in a vague way what it meant, how it should be perceived.  But reality and perception are often two different things.

This was the first time I remembered my dream(s) in a very long time.

I wonder what they mean…