Dreamlife

Took a too long nap this evening and had, again, vivid, strage dreams. They were *so* strong, memorable--not something I normally experience. One, right before I awoke, with my mother... so sad, she was so *present* and I awoke feeling that. She and I arguing in a friendly, mother-daughter way, as was typical of our relationship, about these boxes of jewelry we were looking at (my mother *loved* jewelry). The jewelry was bright gold; she preferred the classy, *real* gold, while I preferred the trendier, artier but faux kind. I mean, I can still *see* the jewelry we were arguing about.
(In a Freudian vein, I'm wondering too, if *jewelry* is somehow connected to *jewishness*, my father, and my thinking so much about judaism since I've been writing this Reznikoff paper-- I mean, the issue of fake vs a real jew(elry)... authenticity... hmmm)

But the strangest thing about all these little dream vignettes--one after the other-- was that they focused on a strange *place*--me riding a bike on a strange, circuitous, extremely narrow bike path that edged magnificent views of the ocean. The bike was odd too, had a very large silver frame that almost didn't fit into the narow path. The landscape looked like a cross between California then, at times, it became like Colorado in the Rockies when the ocean was lost to view. Then a switch to me housesitting a place right off the ocean, in a setting that felt very lush and tropical, like Hawaii. Again, the ocean was predominant. I could see it, but no matter how I tried, I couldn't *get* there. The house was very complex, and couldn't find my way around it, was frantic about cleaning it up before the owners got home, and meanwhile *really* wanting to just get to the ocean....