The Labrynth of the Mind

I took 800 mg of valerian before bed last night. As often happens after taking valerian, I had some very unsettling dreams. Perhaps not so much what others would call nightmares, but so vivid as to be hard to go through.

Nursing Home

I go to a nursing home to visit my great aunt. She is supposedly suffering from Alzheimer's, but seems to be bright and talkative. In fact, she is almost a little overbearing. She keeps talking real loud, laughing, and telling stories. I wonder if she really has Alzheimer's, or is somehow cured.

Death of my Father

My father goes to a doctor's appointment. On the way, he calls me, and tells me that he is dying. There is nothing I can do to save him, as he is having a heart attack right on the spot.

For a while after this, the dream is spent in tears. This dream really felt like RL, due in part to the valerian supplement. I go home, and my mother informs me that they found my father's body. I say that I know. We cry together. After a time, I think that perhaps I should try to go on with life as usual.

I look up. My father is sitting on the couch. "Enough of this crying," he says. "What are we going to do tonight?" We look at him, and my mother says something about how loved ones will appear after their death when you are in mourning. He disappears, and I go back to crying. He shows up again once or twice, and appears to act like nothing is unusual. I know it is not real, though.

A little later in the dream I am talking with someone. We are discussing grief, and how I shouldn't cry too much. I bring up a part I read in CS Lewis' "A Grief Observed" where he talks about giving in to tears as almost a self-indulgant pleasure. I say that an honorable person should not do that.

Baseball

I am at a basebell game, watching the Cleveland Indians win some kind of championship game. They hit the winning home run, and it comes my direction. I am unable to catch it, and it goes out of the stadium. I get really excited about the Indians winning.

Still happy and excited, I walk down the street, leaving the stadium. I look at the yard of a house on my right, which is just behind the stadium. I see a baseball sitting in the yard, and can see a path in the snow running from the direction of the ballpark, as though it had landed and then slid across the ground before coming to a stop. I know that this is the home run winning baseball. I pull it over to me with my foot since there is a wooden fence around the yard and I don't want to trespass. I am about to pick up the ball when I realize that perhaps if it is in their yard it rightfully belongs to them. I debate about this, knowing that the winning ball will be worth something. I think that the honest thing to do is to bury the ball under snow, and send a letter to the owner of the house telling them that the ball is in their yard.