Dream a Little Scream (9 page)

“Edward,” Ali said brightly, “why don't you tell us about your dreams?”

Edward flushed and set his pastry dish down on the coffee table. “I'm not exactly sure how this works,” he began. “Do I just tell you what I recall about my dream, like I'm telling a story?” He paused, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. “And then what do I do? I'm afraid I'm a bit lost here. And I should warn you that usually my dreams are just bits and pieces. I don't think they'll be easy to interpret.”

“Don't worry about that, Edward. You just describe your dream and then we'll chime in with some interpretations.” Lucinda Macavy was giving Edward a wide smile, perching on the edge of the white wicker rocker. In fact, she was leaning forward so much, I was afraid she might topple forward. Edward and Lucinda are single and about the same age. Was shy little Lucinda thinking of Edward as a possible beau? She led a very restricted life during her years as the headmistress of a girls' boarding school, and now that she's retired, I think she's in the mood for a little fun. And that might include some male companionship. She tried a national online dating site, with disappointing results, and we've encouraged her to look for a new relationship right here in town. “Don't be intimidated, Edward,” she went on. “We all share our dreams. Sometimes when someone offers
an interpretation, it resonates with us, and sometimes it's completely off target. We're all friends here, so anything goes.”

I nearly chuckled, thinking of Lucinda's first night at the Dream Club. She'd regaled us with a dream about finding herself stark naked in the freezer aisle of the local Publix. That certainly had sparked a lively discussion. I doubted Edward, a conservative university professor, would have anything so entertaining to tell us, but I've learned never to prejudge people or their dreams. In dream work, as in everything else, still waters run deep.

“I don't think this is relevant,” Edward began, patting his pocket. I knew he usually smoked a pipe, but in deference to our no-smoking rule, he was abstaining tonight. “I'm afraid I didn't dream about anything important. Last night, I dreamt about the trade routes that brought exotic goods to the New World in the nineteenth century.”

“Trade routes? Exotic goods? Why in the world would you dream about something like that?” Dorien asked. “Isn't that a little abstract?”

Edward flushed. “I told you it wouldn't be exciting.” Edward looked as if he was tempted to bolt from the room, and I decided I'd better intervene.

“Edward, if you could just tell us about the images you saw in your dream, that would be helpful,” I said. “And maybe talk about whatever emotions you were experiencing.”

“Yes, Taylor's right,” Lucinda said eagerly. “That would give us something to work with.” She was smiling brightly at him, and I was convinced she was hoping this might be the start of a budding romance. “We need some pictures, something visual.”

“All right, then. This is what I remember. I saw Savannah Harbor,” he began, “back in the late nineteenth century.”
He stopped and looked around the group. I nodded enthusiastically, urging him to continue. “In the dream, it was stretched out before me, like a panorama. It was a bustling place; the wharf was teeming with people. The ships had just arrived—they were amazing vessels, filled with exotic fruits and vegetables, nuts and seeds. Only the very wealthiest people in town could afford them.”

“I saw a painting of the Riverfront in the old days, and it looked just like that,” Dorien cut in rudely. “In the old days, people had never seen anything like a pineapple or a banana, and they tried to figure out ways to use them in desserts.”

“That's probably where the idea for Bananas Foster came from,” Sybil chimed in. “I have a wonderful recipe for that, if anyone wants a copy.”

“What do you think made you dream about the Savannah Harbor?” Ali asked. I could tell she wanted to get back on topic and not interrupt the thread of Edward's story.

“We're covering the history of trade in one of my classes this semester,” Edward replied. “So I suppose it was on my mind when I went to sleep. I'm afraid I didn't have any emotional reaction to the harbor and the ships. It was like watching a scene in a movie.” He cast a worried glance at Dorien. “I'm afraid my dreams won't be too revealing and will probably just reflect my academic interests.” Edward seemed so apologetic, I was worried he was going to drop out of the group.

“Did you see the Waving Girl in your dream?” Persia said suddenly. I knew the Waving Girl was Florence Martus, because there is a statue erected to her in Emmet Park. According to local legend, Florence would wave a welcome and farewell to each ship that visited Savannah Harbor in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Edward smiled. “No, I'm afraid there was no sign of Florence,” he said. “It's an interesting story, though. Her brother was rumored to be the lighthouse keeper on Tybee.” He reached for his apple cider and I could tell he was eager to stop talking and let someone else take center stage. “I'm afraid that's all I have for tonight.”

10

“Anyone else have anything to add?” Ali said after a long pause. “Would someone like to go next?”

“I have something to report,” Sybil said. “I tried lucid dreaming for the very first time yesterday, and I think I'm a believer!”

“Lucid dreaming?” Sara asked. “Isn't that like being half awake and half asleep?”

“When you have a lucid dream, you know you're dreaming,” Sybil said. “It's an amazing experience. It's a lot like dreaming, but it's more powerful.”

It's also more vivid and realistic, according to some of the club's members. Some researchers and neuropsychologists say different areas of the brain are activated during lucid dreaming than during regular REM dreaming. It's a fascinating field, and there's still a lot to learn.

“Yes, and you'll never believe what happened.” Sybil lowered her voice. “I was dreaming that I was looking at
myself in the mirror and suddenly the image shifted. I positively had chills.” She let her gaze wander around the group, and I could feel goose bumps rising on my arms. “A very strange feeling came over me, as if I was transported back to a different time.”

“Did you feel like you were awake or asleep while you were in this state?” I asked.

“I felt like I was awake, but not wide-awake, if you know what I mean. I knew I could direct the dream. That's the advantage of lucid dreaming. I knew I could stop or start it any time I wanted. So I just took a deep breath and told myself there was no need to be frightened. I could bow out at any time.”

“Who did you see in the mirror, my dear?” Rose Harper asked.

“Well, first I saw myself, of course, and then the image changed. I was staring at a woman with a kerchief on her head. I couldn't tell if she was from the present day or from the past. She was holding out a basket to me, and she kept nodding her head as if she wanted me to take it. It seemed like she wanted to tell me something or help me understand something.”

“The woman in the dream,” Persia said, reaching for a tiny cherry tart, “is it possible she was trying to tell you something about Sonia's death?”

A look of understanding flooded Sybil's face. “Yes, I think she may have been. But for the life of me, I don't understand the message. She wanted me to look at something in the basket. It doesn't make any sense, does it? The only thing in the basket was some sort of seed or nut. They were tiny and cream-colored; that's all I can remember. The woman held some up in her hands and let them sift through her fingers as they fell back into the basket. She was watching me intently
the whole time. There was something strange about her, and I felt uncomfortable.”

“Were they pistachio nuts?” Minerva asked.

“Oh no, they were nothing like that. They were very small, smaller than a grain of rice. They had to have been seeds.” Sybil was looking over our heads toward the front windows. The sun was bleeding on the horizon, sending bright ribbons of scarlet and gold over the sky. I couldn't tell if she was admiring the sunset or was momentarily transported back into her dream.

“What happened next?” I asked. Seeds? Sonia's stomach contents had contained seeds. Could the dream offer any insight into her death?

“The scene shifted and the woman faded. I realized I was standing on a dock. It was Savannah Harbor, I think. I don't know what year. The ships looked different, sort of old-timey, so it must have been in the past.”

“Just like in Edward's dream,” Lucinda said excitedly. “You both dreamt about the same place and time period. What do you suppose this means?”

“I have no idea,” Sybil said slowly. “The whole thing seems very unusual. It's almost as though I were dream-hopping.” Sybil insists that all the women in her family have this ability.

Sybil has been privy to a great number of “secrets” by dream-hopping, but she feels duty bound not to share them unless someone's life or safety is at stake. She was giving Edward a keen look, and I wondered if she'd try to enter one of his dreams.

“There must be more to the story,” Lucinda pressed on. “This is fascinating.” I had the feeling she wanted to turn the floor back to Edward, or at least give him a chance to comment. I glanced over at the professor. He was sitting ramrod
straight in his chair, his elbow on the armrest, his chin in his hands. He was studying Sybil as if she were a bug under a microscope, and I wondered what he was thinking. Edward is surely a man who plays his cards close to his vest, as my Granny used to say.

“Edward, do you have any thoughts on this?” Dorien asked.

Edward rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath. “I'm afraid I don't.” I had the idea he didn't like being the center of attention and didn't enjoy being put on the spot.

For a moment, we all were silent. Then Ali said, “Can you tell us more about the woman? Somehow I think she's the key to the dream.”

Sybil looked down at her lap and played with the bright rings she sported on nearly every finger. I had the feeling she was stalling for time, choosing her words carefully. I wondered if the memory might be hazy, but when she spoke, her voice was clear and strong. “I think she was speaking to me in Italian. I remember hearing the word ‘
bene
.'”

“Bene?”
That got Sara's attention. “Are you sure about that?”

Sybil gave a vigorous nod of her head. “Yes, she kept saying it over and over. ‘
Bene,
bene
,' and urging me to look into the basket. I have no idea what she meant.”

“‘
Bene
' means ‘fine,' or ‘good,' or ‘all right,'” Sara said. “Maybe she meant whatever she was selling was good.” No one said anything, and I wondered if we were all thinking the same thing. Sybil had dreamt about seeds, and we knew that Sonia had ingested seeds. Was this too much of a stretch? Dream interpretation is more of an art than a science, and it's difficult to pin down the meaning that floats up from our subconscious. Dreams are very personal, and I've learned that what the dreamer brings to the story is just as important
as the words and events in the dream. It's what you read into it, your emotional reaction, that counts.

“It's a mystery,” Ali said after a moment. “I'm afraid I don't know what to make of it.” She smiled at Etta Mae. “Shall we move on?”

Etta Mae sat back, crossing her hands over her chest in a classic “closed” body-language position. She even swung her legs to one side, in the opposite direction of Ali. Her intentions were crystal clear. She was literally and figuratively tuning out the group. “I told you I'd like go last,” she said peevishly.

“Of course,” Ali said agreeably. “Anyone else?”

“I dreamt about jewelry,” Lucinda said eagerly. She glanced over at Edward to see if he was listening. Since Lucinda is a voracious shopper of a home shopping network, it's not surprising that she dreamt about jewelry, I thought wryly.

“Jewelry again?” Dorien said snidely. “More cubic zirconia, I suppose?”

“Why, no, that wasn't what I dreamt about at all,” Lucinda said, her smile fading. She had been so enthusiastic about sharing her dream, and now her expression made me think of a deflated balloon. All the energy and passion had been sucked right out of her by Dorien's thoughtless remark.

I made a note to speak to Ali after the meeting. Surely there was some way to curb Dorien and her sharp comments. No one ever had the gumption to do it before, but things were getting out of hand. I noticed people were starting to glance at her before they began talking, as if they were censoring themselves. This couldn't continue, and I vowed to do something before the next meeting.

Everyone should feel free to openly discuss dream content without being criticized or mocked. That belief is at the heart of the Dream Club. I idly wondered if Ali and I should
try to come up with some rules for the club, although knowing Dorien, she would never think that they applied to her.

“Tell us about your dream,” I said encouragingly. “I want to hear about the jewelry.”

“Well, it was the strangest thing,” Lucinda said, warming to the story. “Someone gave me a very valuable piece of jewelry. It was a necklace. A pendant on a thin silver chain. I knew it was precious, and I wore it when I was strolling around the grounds of a mansion. There was a little pond, and when I stopped to look at some koi fish in the pond, the necklace slipped right off my neck and disappeared into the water. I looked for it, but suddenly the water turned very dark, almost black, and I realized it was gone forever.” Her shoulders slumped and she looked dejected. “It's odd how a dream can evoke strong emotions, feelings that are still with you the next day. Logically, it makes no sense. You know the events in the dream weren't real, but the feelings seem real.”

“I think everyone here can relate to that,” Ali piped up.

I've had the same experience myself. I had night terrors when I was younger. Whenever my dreams evoke strong emotions, they seem to linger in my mind for hours after I wake up. When I argue with someone in a dream, I find myself feeling angry and out of sorts with the person the next day. It makes absolutely no sense, but feelings are feelings and they take on a life of their own.

“How do you feel right now, Lucinda?” Ali's tone was gentle.

“I feel so sad, like I've lost something precious and can never get it back.” Her gaze swept the group. “What do you think the dream means?”

“Dark water can mean death,” Minerva said. Her sister Rose nodded in agreement. “I remember when our aunt Tabitha
passed, Rose and I had dreams about the ocean at night. They were so vivid and disturbing. The scene was bleak, with no moonlight shining on the waves. The water was black and forbidding. I still feel queasy just thinking of it. Do you remember that, dear? We both had the same dream.”

“I do,” Rose said. She gave a little shudder. “I have that dream when someone in my family is very sick or close to passing on. And I'm afraid at our age, that happens all too frequently.” She gave a rueful smile, and Minerva reached over and patted her hand. The sisters were devoted to each other and had lived together for decades. I always wonder what would happen if one of them passed away. It would surely be devastating for the remaining sister.

“Do the dreams go on for a long time?” Sara asked.

“No, they're very powerful for a few days and then they're gone. After the loved one has died and we've all grieved for them, the dream changes.”

“In what way?” I found myself intrigued and had a vague memory of dreaming of water before my parents died in a car crash. I wondered if Ali recalled having similar dreams. We were both hit hard by their passing, and sometimes I think Ali has never really recovered. This is one of the reasons I feel so protective of her.

“I still dream about water, but now there's sunlight dancing on the surface. The dream has a totally different feel to it; it's filled with light, not shadows. These dreams make me happy because I know my loved ones have moved on to a better place.”

We just had time for two more dreams, and Ali described a classic anxiety dream, probably because she's worried about the future of the shop. She told us how she'd found herself alone on a train, in the dark of night and unsure of her destination. After the train sped out of the station, she realized
she had no ticket and had left her luggage and purse on the platform.

So there she was, on a speeding train in the pitch dark, feeling more alone and vulnerable by the minute. Where was she headed? What would happen when she got there? It sounded terrifying, and her voice shook as she told the story. Dreams about a journey to an unknown destination commonly occurred when people were under a great deal of stress.

When she finished recounting the dream, Rose Harper reached over and rested her hand gently on Ali's shoulder. “There, dear,” she said in a comforting tone, “all this turmoil will pass and everything will be all right. You'll see.”