I normally don't remember my dreams.
However, we had an estimated 1500 to 1800 people (and three therapy dogs) attend the calling hours last night, with an hour and a half wait in line. Some people stood there the whole time, patiently, just to have the chance to say, "I am so sorry" and move on. I was exhausted, and I know my sister had to be. She kept saying, "He was just a simple man who went to work, did his job, and loved his family. And all these people. . . "
Former neighbors from his childhood, co-workers, the receptionists from the dentist's office, the superintendent of schools, the entire fire department (with their trucks), the kids' friends, people from the church, cousins, the nurse from their doctor's office, his mother's high school friends, all came as a testament to that a simple man who did his job and loved his family.
At five this morning, I was awakened by a dream about my brother-in-law, Frank, and one of those wire carts found in laundromats for moving wet clothes. Frank is well over six feet tall but was not only sitting in the cart but was somehow driving it down one of the two main roads near our house, speeding and veering in and out of traffic, wire hangers overhead banging and swinging.
And, despite my warnings to be careful, he had a head on collision with a mini-Cooper which was going east in the westbound lane.
So, of course, that was it for sleep for me. It wasn't that I was upset by the dream--it was too stupid for that--but I lay there and wondered, "Where did THAT come from?"
Our accountant, who is also a family friend of over forty years, and who lost her young husband to a heart attack, said, "Tomorrow starts numb week, followed by chaos month, where you have to tie up all the loose ends with the paperwork."
But today we say our final goodbyes.