Ending the Year

I dreamt about my grandfather again last night. Though he died almost thirty years ago, he still appears regularly in my dreams and last night’s tracked most all of the others I have of him. He’s always the same, in his late seventies, active, fit and interested in whatever is going on, which is a far remove from how he was at the end, broken in body and spirit.


In my dream I was driving a red truck that had been sitting up for some time. After getting it up to speed, the thick layer of dust had blown off to reveal the old and spider tracked paint, patterned with minute hairline cracks like an impenetrable, organic labyrinth sprung from the slow passage of time. I drove into and finally through a howling
windstorm and when I got to his ranch there he was, standing out by the house, waiting for me.

This was one of the dreams I have of him where he either knows he’s dead, or alternatively, that he’s been away for years and we have catching up to do. In my dreams the two possibilities are equally plausible and normal and I prefer these to the other type I sometimes have, the ones where he is only present and stands there in silence. He asked a few questions about the truck, who it belonged to, where it came from, why it had been sitting unused in the barn—a detail even I wasn’t cognizant of—for so long, but I didn’t know the answers; all I knew was that I was driving it. He was particularly interested in the stereo and compact disc player as they had been invented long after his time.

As we walked around the truck, I discovered that the storm had stripped long expanses of paint off the passenger side to expose glossy, silver paint beneath, immaculate and new. I peeled a bit more of the top coat off and thought to myself that it would take a while to remove it all, but would be worth it. I also thought that  there were other, more urgent things to do, so I asked my grandfather if he’d like to go down into the pasture with me and look at the stock tank which was overflowing from a recent rain, and to feel the grass. It was spring and everything had come back to life. I knew from experience that no matter what we did, he couldn’t stay long. Before he could answer I woke up.

I guess it’s the time of year, as today marks the last of 2009. Endings and beginnings, all the time, but never so obvious as at the end of December. I had several other dreams last night, one about pets and horses long gone, another about a friend of mine who no longer speaks to me, though I don’t why. I dreamt of standing in line to purchase fresh bread that had some type of cinnamon glaze on it, and my confusion when the baker asked what I was buying and her look of sad patience when I couldn’t describe what it was, only that I wanted it.

So tonight marks the end of one beginning and vice-versa. New opportunities will arise and hopefully old mistakes will be if not rectified, at least avoided and maybe forgiven. As always, I wonder what comes next.