I am finding myself reminiscing about the old days. This is not something I typically do or even relish. I actually don’t like thinking about the past. Too many ghosts.

I have certain reoccurring dreams. One of them is that I have to go to the bathroom really bad, like pee my pants kind of bad. I go into to the public restroom and it is an absolute disgusting mess. Stall doors are gone, toilet paper everywhere, seats are wet, not flushed. You get the picture. But I’ve really got to go, so I have to figure out what to do. Do I hover over the seat, try to pee without sitting down? Do I just go back outside and pee behind a tree? Sometimes I try to figure out what my dreams mean, this one I haven’t figured out yet.

Another dream I have is that I have been going to classes all year, but totally forgot about one of them. I just didn’t go. Now I have a test, I can’t remember where the class is, what the subject was, and now I think I won’t graduate. My 30 year high school reunion is in the not so distant future, so this dream is tapping into some long held anxieties. Ghosts of high school past.

But my favorite dream is when I am looking through junk stores or abandoned buildings. I am alone. I am searching. I am looking for treasure. Most of the time I find treasure, but sometimes I find ghosts.

I didn’t dream anything last night that I can remember. I’m up early. Too early for a Sunday. I like this time because I am alone. I am searching. I am looking for treasure. I am clicking on keys, punctuating each sentence with a sip from my perfectly honey-sweetened black hot tea. I am remembering a dream I had last week. I was searching through a junk store. Shelves piled high, heaps on the floor, I turned a corner and there was my mother. Bright eyes, full color in her cheeks, white hair, thick and beautiful (her hair was brown and thinned in real life). The realization of seeing my mom again after so long, just brought instant tears to my eyes.

“Mom!!”

“Hi Kimmy.” Her bright blue eyes in wide surprise, big welcoming smile.

“Mom, (now full boo-hoo-ing) where have you been?”

“Oh, you know. But really it’s not as much fun as you’d think. I kind of like it here.”

And then she turned the corner, I followed after her, but she was gone.

I woke up with tears in my eyes and a catch in my throat. She was so close. The veil was so thin. Just another ghost knocking around in my haunted house of a mind. Most of the time the ghosts are quiet, they keep to themselves and I keep to myself. Something has them stirred up. Is it them or is it me? Am I searching? Am I looking for long buried treasure?