I had a tremendously vivid dream last night, more like a memory in its clarity. The setting was a funeral. Kari and I were at the front of the church, singing a duet of the old hymn "Near to the Heart of God." A lot of FOP people were there but dozens on dozens of others I didn't recognize. So I got a little worried after a time that I didn't pick out Michele anywhere in the crowd, but finally figured out from a variety of circumstances that whether or not she was present, she couldn't be the one in the box. The fact that there was no crossover - no disparate parts of life meeting impossibly - made it all the more realistic. No cameo appearances by my kindergarten teacher sitting in the third row, no combination of people from different eras all in the same room. Not even anyone from any other realm of life except FOP, so I wasn't even a common thread (presumably that was also reserved for the guest of honor). And it wasn't the church of my childhood or any other part of my past, but one right here in Anchorage that I've been in only twice, the last time probably 8-10 years ago. It didn't feel like a dream where you are subconsciously working out familiar issues; it felt like journalism and I the participant-observer.
Nancy took the gestalt approach in interpreting this and said that in the middle of my life's upheavals - some of which have resolved but with at least a few still in full flail - this represents the part of my current life that is dying, that has to be buried and grieved in advance of the changes still coming.
Oh. More change. Yaaaaaaaay.
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