From: dicksilk@gmail.com   
      
   The dream before waking (around either 7:AM or possibly 7:30, apparently   
   *right around* or possibly *just before* daybreak, the dreamer was at a   
   building *much like* a Church, *much like* Grace Lutheran (in M'boro, on E.   
   Clark Blvd.) *as if* at some type    
   of wedding rehearsal.  There was a general hubbub going around, and as people   
   began leaving, the dreamer was wondering what time to return for the actual   
   ceremony.   
      
   As the dreamer was outside the front of the building, he saw a mother and   
   daughter pair walking away from the building (much like one would walk down   
   the south-aiming sidewalk at Grace— it's just that there was a *slight   
   difference* in exact sameness,    
   as if the *meanings* were mainly the same, but the actual, physical structures   
   were slightly different between the dream location and the one IRL—) when   
   the dreamer *thought* (he) recognized the daughter as a gal from (his) past at   
   Grace, named "   
   Charlotte," only the daughter appeared at around the blooming age in her teens   
   (the primary age at which Charlotte and I knew / associated with each other at   
   Church, back in our youth) and also looked a bit different from Charlotte.    
   (Charlotte would be    
   in her early 60s today, same as me.)   
      
   The mother actually looked different as well, as Charlotte's mother was (is) a   
   "little old German lady" (a bride from WWII to an American soldier) while the   
   mother in the dream was lean and of the protective motherly age (of perhaps   
   around late 20s to    
   mid-30s, *possibly* early 40s) and the mother in the dream was *definitely* an   
   American, which along with the difference in appearance of the daughter is   
   what led the dreamer to realize there'd been a type of mistake in identity,   
   and began with the usual,   
    "I'm sorry— I thought you were..." etc., but then realized that (he) had   
   left (his) mother indoors and needed to go get her.  (So just sayin', in this   
   instance, the dreamer certainly appears to be as of some form of myself.)   
      
   As the dreamer is heading into the "main" entrance (the original double doors   
   facing south) (he) sees my sister Marilyn, coming out, with her usual smiling   
   face, and there's some sound from the people in the doorway area akin to   
   [there he is] as if    
   someone had been looking for me, and I was just showing up, when in the dream   
   it was as if I felt I had simply remembered that I needed to go get Mom in   
   order to take her home.   
      
   So the dreamer enters the building, heads east (towards the original commons   
   area, however, in the current "real life" condition, it's all been built up as   
   classrooms and as a piano/choir rehearsal area) and sees my (late, earthly,   
   biological) father    
   seated (facing south) at a table, across from my mother (barely noticed,   
   although she was facing south) and there was a genuine sense of warmth / warm   
   feelings of some nature (perhaps "love"/"joy"?) at seeing my father again.  He   
   appeared pretty much as    
   he did in the main working period of his life, perhaps mid-to-later-mid-40s,   
   dark hair, glasses, built like the human version of a bull (I believe the term   
   is "barrel-chested") and "I" (the dreamer) realized he was here (in the dream   
   scenario) as if from    
   the "afterlife," and said, "Gee, you didn't have to come all the way from   
   Heaven just for this— " (still thinking this was likely just a rehearsal for   
   a wedding.)  The dreamer somehow understood that even though referencing the   
   fact that a person in a    
   dream is already dead generally tends to end the dream immediately, in this   
   case, the dreamer comfortably felt that there would still be a moment or two   
   for communication.   
      
   "Dad" had something like one of those small, squarish to-go boxes (maybe   
   6"x6"x3"?) only it was of *absolutely clear* material (rather than Styrofoam)   
   and contained some clear-yet-crystalish-looking substance, similar in   
   structure/form/composition to    
   Blue Emu, only this was clear stuff, rather than blue.  I suspect the   
   crystallish-looking appearance was due to, say, if someone had taken a jar of   
   Blue Emu (a gel for soothing aching, sore muscles) and had shaken it into the   
   to-go box.  The dreamer was *   
   thinking* along the lines of: "What's that stuff/for?"   
      
   What he ("Dad") said is a bit fuzzy already (this late in the morning) but was   
   *akin* to: "This is to keep your stomach warm in the cold" (as if someone's   
   stomach or abdomen could have frozen water crystals in it or something) and   
   "I" (the dreamer) was    
   thinking I didn't need any, but should've politely accepted it or said "No,   
   thank you, I'm fine."  For all I know, that stuff *could* have been the 21st   
   century's equivalent of "ambrosia," but the dreamer wasn't curious (or hungry)   
   enough to try it at    
   that moment.  Probably just as well, because if it *had* been akin to Blue   
   Emu, I suspect it would *NOT* have been appropriate for consumption (as food.)   
      
   It really didn't even occur to the dreamer ("me") that the substance *could*   
   have been brought for Mom (his wife— after all, he was sitting across from   
   her at a table, similar to those kinds that get lined up for a long pot luck   
   banquet) I *suppose*    
   because he was talking to me, and didn't mention it was for her.  (Dad   
   *likely* would've made that clear in his reply.)   
      
   There's this one image, which *may* have been a part of this scene, but for   
   some reason is viewed "separately" in some manner, that being of the dreamer's   
   mother wearing a type of white, woolen sweater (similar to a turtle neck, yet   
   not quite so "necky")    
   not like the itchy wool of a civil war uniform, but something smooth such as   
   what may be worn in the fall, yet thick enough to wear in the winter.   
      
   She had her arms folded, with her head down in her arms, saying something with   
   a note of humble obedience, even though there was no note of joy in it   
   whatsoever, along the lines of [I'm not worthy of this] (as if perhaps the   
   sweater-top was *possibly* a "   
   saintly garment" such as is described in many of the Books in the Bible.)   
      
   At any rate, that dream was all 9+/10-, although the "Dad" component certainly   
   qualifies it in the "11" range.  It occurred to me *afterward* (after waking)   
   that it *could* have been funeral-related, as if the church-like gathering had   
   actually been her    
   funeral (at age 93, you know it's gotta be sometime in the *nearer* future   
   rather than distant....)   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)