Last night, I had a dream that I was 18 years old and sitting at the kitchen table of the house where my mom and I lived when I was in high school. I was waiting for my mom and dad to come home from seeing the doctor and I was worried.
(In real life, my mom and Dad divorced when I was 13.)
Finally, mom and dad stepped into the kitchen. They both looked extremely happy, certainly far more happy than I remember either one of them ever looking when they were together in real life.
“What did the doctor say?” I asked.
My mom smiled and said, “He says I’m okay. It wasn’t anything.”
“It was benign?” I said.
“Yes,” she said, “benign.”
In my dream, I started to cry.
(In real life, my mom passed away when I was 23 years old.)
Then my Dad said, “The doctor thinks I have a brain tumor.”
I looked over at him. “What?”
My Dad pointed at right eye. “It’s right up here,” he said. “That’s what they think. I don’t think it’s nothing.”
My mom and dad laughed.
And that’s when I woke up, feeling very sad.