“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”
– Walt Disney
If we all took Walt Disney’s advice quite literally, our lives might very well become a three-ring circus. Because if I pursue every single one of my wacky, ridiculous, highly improbable dreams, I’m heading for the loony bin faster than you can say “Nutty.” But what about the other kind of dreams—the ones that flash frightening, vivid scenarios from our subconscious mind?
This post explores the unsettling intersection of fears, midlife crisis and family dynamics of aging parents, wrapped in a bizarre nightmare.
Cinematic Masterpiece of Marital Betrayal
The air in the house was thick, not with the familiar scent of her mother’s famous chili, but with a horrifying mélange of cheap lilies and pure, unadulterated bridal perfume. It smelled cloying, sickly sweet, and fundamentally wrong.
She and her sister, the dynamic duo of disgruntled offspring, were making their absolute disapproval felt, barricaded in their childhood bedroom in pajamas.
“Fifty-four years,” her sister whispered, staring at a stain on the carpet that was probably older than her. “Fifty-four years of marital bliss, only for Dad to go rogue and pick up… a beige woman.”
“Don’t call her beige,” she muttered, eyeing the wedding preparations in their parent’s home with disdain. “Beige implies subtle sophistication. She’s more of a ‘dusty mauve,’ the color of an ugly bruise.”
Their father, bless his heart (but not too much, given the circumstances), was downstairs, radiating the terrifying energy of a man who thought his mid-seventies wedding was an act of personal liberation, not a crime against their OG family.
The house, normally a cozy bastion of long-term commitment, was now overrun with strangers. There were murmurings of ‘better get dressed’ vaguely directed at the duo. Someone had the audacity to suggest ‘why don’t the girls make themselves useful.’ ‘Or else what?’ she snapped. ‘We are 46 and 49 for God’s sake and Dad is 76!’
Then, the true horror: a young woman, a stranger, yet possessing a proprietary air, wandered past the door. She stopped, glanced around with the entitlement of someone who’d already mentally chosen ‘her’ room, in ‘their’ home, and chirped, with jarring sincerity: “Oh, Dad! You’re going to make a beautiful groom!”
“Did you hear that?” her sister hissed, clutching a throw pillow like a weapon. ‘DAD!!’ “I assume that’s the ‘future stepsister.'”
She took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, that settles it. Operation ‘Hide the Wedding Rings in the Compost Bin’ is a go. But first, let’s address the true mystery of this horror show: where is Mom? Is she out getting a complicated latte? Is she even aware of the nonsense going on in her house?”
The sheer absurdity of the situation, her father, a man whose only hobby is arguing with the evening news, suddenly starring in a soap opera, was so unrealistic that a small hope was keeping her afloat. Maybe this is a dream, or more appropriately, a nightmare.
The Quieting: Dreams and reality
The noise faded. The dream’s chaotic soundtrack of strangers and silly wedding music receded, leaving an unnatural quiet that settled over the scene. The humor dissolved, leaving a sharp, tender ache.
It is often said that dreams are experiences we can’t have or miss in our conscious waking life. Our subconscious mind compensates by giving us these experiences while we sleep. It is also believed that our worst fears manifest into our dreams.
The truth of the dream was not about her father remarrying. Instead, it was a terrifying imagined world where the central pillar of her family’s life, the years of shared history, the comfortable, unshakable foundation, had simply been removed. The nightmare, in its ridiculous, awful climax, had given her a profound glimpse into a future she desperately hoped never came: a world where her aging parent’s mortality was a palpable, immediate reality.
But also, the dream was a somber, silent nod to the fierce, deep gratitude she holds for the fact that, in her real life, her happy, whole family unit is still, wonderfully, intact.
What vivid, fear-based dreams has your subconscious mind conjured up? Share your most cinematic nightmare in the comments below!
If you liked this, you’ll love “Lunchbox Wars: A Funny Mom Story About Love, Leftovers & Lost Lids”
P.S. If you enjoy what you read, there’s a little coffee link below. It keeps the words flowing and the caffeine levels honest.