Big, lumbering dog, so sweet...
From last week: There is a big, lumbering dog, so sweet. It is my dog. I also have two cats. The dog gets away but I don't notice. I simply live without the dog quite happily. Then someone returns the dog and I think, "I am such an awful person. I did not even miss this sweet dog." It's back so I try to love it. It is lovable but the whole situation makes me uneasy.
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I had this dream the night after S called me, wanting to come stay with me for a weekend she already had a ticket for. I told her that I didn't think it was a good idea. She kept asking, "It doesn't make sense/ why does it have to be this way?" I am always trying to spare her feelings by giving psychological mumbo jumbo that puts the blame on me, but I realized that I needed to be direct. I said, "I don't think you're the right person for me." She started crying and said she should get off the phone. That night I worried about her. I left her a message but she didn't return it. S always loved big, friendly dogs and compared herself to one. She was never down with the cats. S used to say that she was a big, dumb dog, though she said it in a way to indicate that being one is a good thing/endearing. When I woke up from the dream, I felt a rush of guilt for rejecting S. She is so kind and to make her cry and to break her heart breaks mine. It is very painful to hurt someone. Another thought: We had a big dog growing up named Muffin. Because of David's allergies, Muffin was more and more frequently locked in the basement by my dad. It saddened me very much. I used to have a repetitive nightmare during this time period in which Muffin was walking on two legs like a human chasing our family around the house upstairs because Muffin was so angry about being locked away.
Oh Jen--the comments about Muffin grab my heart--I'm sorry you suffered thru that. We found a really nice (and liberal) family that wanted her, and after we interviewed them, we all went over to their house to leave her off. On the way back, I cried, and you comforted me, and Dad said it wasn't sad. She died at a pretty old age, and I assume her post Schwam life was good.
Another thought: the dream may, on some level be about weight: the big lumbering dog weight, and its sweetness, which you love. Your comment about Sylvia is true too. It's good to be more direct, I think. You're a dear who does not like to hurt people, but loves are complicated, and more often than not, we go our own ways--and live thru it. Mom
Wow. How sad that posting was! Both about S and about Muffin. I was so moved. I hope you have more cheerful dreams (I almost wrote "dogs") soon. :-)
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