More than one way to cry, I guess
Blog
Posted by kitt at 12:19 on 25 February 2005
Had a bad dream last night. Bad enough to remember, anyway.
I was arriving at some tourist point with my in-the-dream-husband, who was definitely NOT Kris, and a friend who might have been my in-the-dream-husband's sister, not sure. The tourist point was some urban castle-like place, with a cobblestone courtyard and park/treed surroundings. The courtyard was being used as a parking lot for the castle/building. We drove through the arched gates and parked to the right, close to the edge of the courtyard.
The courtyard ended with a ~3 foot dropoff, leading down into a large, lightly wooded, well shaded park. The courtyard was also slanted down to the dropoff, presumably to direct water off the courtyard.
My in-the-dream-husband (whose name was something like Barack, which I think was influenced by recent reading of various things by Barack Obama), was driving. He parked the car, got out and helped our friend out of the back seat. I exited the passenger seat just as B was walking around the front of the car. As I closed the door, I noticed the car was moving forward. B had forgotten to set the parking brake.
I called out his name in warning, but he hadn't noticed the car was moving. He turned to face the car, put his hands down on the hood, and strangely tried to push back. At this point, the momentum was too much: the car rolled off the courtyard, pushing B with it. B fell off the edge. When the car hit the edge, it tilted, and also fell, pinning B beneath the car.
As in dreams, things just happen, and poof my friend and I were hovering over B, who was now on the courtyard cobblestones, unable to breathe, having been crushed by the car. My friend is calling out B's name, telling him to hold on, I'm crying hysterically as I grab my cell phone and call 911. I guess we were in the U.S., though I didn't get an impression about location.
The 911 operator answered, and asked what the emergency is. I tell her my husband has been crushed by a car, that we need an ambulence. She asked my location. I told her where we were: at the castle/courtyard/monument/whatever, and she replied, "I'm sorry, I'll need an exact address. Can you be more specific?"
What?
So, I told my friend to stay with B, stood up and sprinted out the gates with phone to my ear. I didn't know what the street was. It was a freaking tourist attraction, how can they not know where I am?
Just outside the gates was some street vendor like store front. The building was a permanent fixture, so (heavenly lights shining down on this store), I ran to get the address. I repeated the address from the vendor to the 911 operator, and she replied, "According to this address, you're in a smoke and wine shop on whatever-the-street-was." "No, no, no," I explained, "we're at the monument next door. You! Can't! Miss! It!"
But no, the operator needed more information. So I sprinted to the next sign I see. It had to have the cross street somewhere on it, right? The sign was a big next-to-the-street business sign, whose business name was Beadaroq. Kid you not. Pretty close to beadaroo, eh? Which was what I originally thought the name was, which added to my confusion of the moment.
Nope, not enough. The 911 operator refused to help. She wouldn't send an ambulence out to help us.
I ran back to B and our friend at this point. I was completely hysterical. No one would help. No one saw this injured man lying on the cobblestones with two hysterical women over him.
He died in my arms.
I cried. I cried so hard my head started bleeding. And I couldn't stop crying. The heart-wrenching sobs of a lost soul. No one would help us. My in-my-dream-husband just died and no one would help. A fucking stupid death, and I couldn't stop crying.
And then I woke up.
No longer crying. Lying next to Kris, with a dog on the bed at our feet. I lay awake for a long while, wondering about the dream. Wondering why no one would help. Feeling the tenderness of my soul at the overwhelming loss.
And thought, well, that's one way to cry.
The courtyard ended with a ~3 foot dropoff, leading down into a large, lightly wooded, well shaded park. The courtyard was also slanted down to the dropoff, presumably to direct water off the courtyard.
My in-the-dream-husband (whose name was something like Barack, which I think was influenced by recent reading of various things by Barack Obama), was driving. He parked the car, got out and helped our friend out of the back seat. I exited the passenger seat just as B was walking around the front of the car. As I closed the door, I noticed the car was moving forward. B had forgotten to set the parking brake.
I called out his name in warning, but he hadn't noticed the car was moving. He turned to face the car, put his hands down on the hood, and strangely tried to push back. At this point, the momentum was too much: the car rolled off the courtyard, pushing B with it. B fell off the edge. When the car hit the edge, it tilted, and also fell, pinning B beneath the car.
As in dreams, things just happen, and poof my friend and I were hovering over B, who was now on the courtyard cobblestones, unable to breathe, having been crushed by the car. My friend is calling out B's name, telling him to hold on, I'm crying hysterically as I grab my cell phone and call 911. I guess we were in the U.S., though I didn't get an impression about location.
The 911 operator answered, and asked what the emergency is. I tell her my husband has been crushed by a car, that we need an ambulence. She asked my location. I told her where we were: at the castle/courtyard/monument/whatever, and she replied, "I'm sorry, I'll need an exact address. Can you be more specific?"
What?
So, I told my friend to stay with B, stood up and sprinted out the gates with phone to my ear. I didn't know what the street was. It was a freaking tourist attraction, how can they not know where I am?
Just outside the gates was some street vendor like store front. The building was a permanent fixture, so (heavenly lights shining down on this store), I ran to get the address. I repeated the address from the vendor to the 911 operator, and she replied, "According to this address, you're in a smoke and wine shop on whatever-the-street-was." "No, no, no," I explained, "we're at the monument next door. You! Can't! Miss! It!"
But no, the operator needed more information. So I sprinted to the next sign I see. It had to have the cross street somewhere on it, right? The sign was a big next-to-the-street business sign, whose business name was Beadaroq. Kid you not. Pretty close to beadaroo, eh? Which was what I originally thought the name was, which added to my confusion of the moment.
Nope, not enough. The 911 operator refused to help. She wouldn't send an ambulence out to help us.
I ran back to B and our friend at this point. I was completely hysterical. No one would help. No one saw this injured man lying on the cobblestones with two hysterical women over him.
He died in my arms.
I cried. I cried so hard my head started bleeding. And I couldn't stop crying. The heart-wrenching sobs of a lost soul. No one would help us. My in-my-dream-husband just died and no one would help. A fucking stupid death, and I couldn't stop crying.
And then I woke up.
No longer crying. Lying next to Kris, with a dog on the bed at our feet. I lay awake for a long while, wondering about the dream. Wondering why no one would help. Feeling the tenderness of my soul at the overwhelming loss.
And thought, well, that's one way to cry.