Please note that the comment section is "no reply" which means I can't reach you unless you leave a way for me to do that. My email address is at the top if you wish to contact me. Also, please, no soliciting. Thank you.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Rainbow Room

When I was a kid, there was this restaurant in Minneapolis called the Rainbow Room.  This was in the late fifties/early sixties.  My family would go there Sunday nights sometimes, and my grandparents from both sides often joined us.  My brother and I (sister was not yet born) would huddle down in the backseat “dodging” the lights that would often flash across the skies, announcing a new movie playing in a nearby theater.

I have occasionally written about my grandmother Ida, my dad’s mother.  She was and still is, long after her death, a driving force in my life.  I often reach out to her across the veil that separates us, asking for her help.  Such was the case last night.  I had a very bad day.  My sister had come by to visit bringing with her a delicious lunch.  I usually am able to gather myself together enough to chat, laugh and have the best time possible given my limitations.  I was unable to do that Monday.  She could see it, and only stayed a short time.  I felt bad, as it is a long drive.  Perhaps I should have called to cancel, but I wanted to see her.

Anyway, last night I was in one of my awful mental/spiritual/physical situations, crying for it to be over.  I begged for Ida to appear to me; to show me something that would help.  Like death.  It wasn’t my usual crying jags.  It was more of a giving up emotion.  I’m just worn out.

The surgery in February was a bust, the tumors are back and hurt like heck; my cataract surgery changed nothing, except that it’s a little worse.  The dry eye makes my eyes hurt.  I did get a new prescription which should be in soon and I’m hoping I can go back to reading….I know I can do audio books but it’s not the same thing.  Reading is cathartic; listening feels passive unless the speaker grabs hold and even then the experience isn’t the same.  So poor me, pity potty, etc.

Anyway, after waking up every hour I finally fell asleep.  Then came the dream.  I was in the Rainbow Room with my family (not all, but I remember some) and my Grandma Ida was to the left of me, eating quietly.  At some point, everyone but my grandmother moved to the other side of the table, down and away from her and me.  Then, suddenly, we were in a hotel room, only it was a room next to a noisy street full of drug addicts and hookers.  I tried to get us a different room.  And I did.  Then I woke up.

I haven’t a clue what any of it meant.   The “hooker/addict” thing could have been about me (well, the addict thing anyway) but I’m not an addict; dependent yes, but as I always say, I’d flush every last pill down the toilet if I could.  But I need them the same way someone else needs blood pressure medication, etc.  Somehow though, seeing her and being aware there was a “rainbow” involved, lifted my spirits a bit.  I went out with my help today to get some things to make a slow cooker soup. I’ve been experimenting with slow cooker recipes, just so I get food in me.  So far, I haven’t found anything I like,   But right now, I smell the aroma of the lentil/Portobello mushroom soup that Maria is making for me..  We shall see.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll see Ida soon.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Click on "Older Posts" to read more!