All these have conspired, or inspired, dreams.
I often claim not to dream, since I can hardly ever recall that I have dreamed upon awakening. And when I wake up in the middle of the night because my doggie has shifted around in the bed or because I have to get up to go to the bathroom, I seldom am awakened from a dream.
But I've been dreaming a lot since I returned from Paris. After I travel I often return to the places I've just visited for weeks after I come home, as if my psyche wants to prolong the pleasant experience.
But I've been having strange relationship dreams lately. Not sexual, but just recalling old loves. For instance, last night I dreamed -- and from out of nowhere -- of simply lying peacefully in the arms of my second husband, my head on his chest, listening to his heart. My cheek recalled the texture of his skin, its living moisture, his chest hair -- and I even dreamed his scent. In those fleeting seconds I dreamed how it felt to be very much in love with him, lying simply and peacefully in our white marital bed, my head resting on his chest, our legs intertwined and his soft, sleeping breathing pattern.
Where did THAT come from? And then I was thinking inside my dream: I'm in his arms. And then in French: en bras. Embrasse. Embrace.
I always wonder when I dream so intimately of an old love if they are also dreaming of me and if it's not a clue that love is indeed a kind of transcendence. Do we simultaneously haunt one another, me and my old loves?
To live is to live a mystery, I think.
In any case, today my emotions are tender, sweet and not just a little sad. It's autumn.