Alive as You or Me
Dreams are, I suppose, a way of sorting things out in your head. I don't believe that they have any meaning other than that, but they are rather powerful sometimes.
Last night I dreamed that I saw The Communist's ghost in an old kitchen. I knew it was his ghost, because the kitchen had changed rather since he died. He was quite old and scuttled in a rather guilty fashion across the floor, looking guiltily behind him as though he had no right to be there. When he got to where the door handle used to be, he turned an invisible handle, went through an invisible door and started to go off to the right.
I wanted to catch him up. I didn't think I'd be able to hug him, since he was a ghost, but I was going to have a very good try. To my surprise, I did manage to give him a big hug. "Dad," I said, "I love you." That was it - - he was gone.
My parents were great Paul Robeson fans. My mother once shook his hand at a concert and marvelled ever afterwards at how big his hands were.
The Communist had a lovely bass-baritone voice - not as deep as Paul Robeson's but with a rich, rounded quality to it.
He used to sing the ballad Joe Hill, having heard Paul Robeson sing it.
After my dream, I woke to the remembered sound of The Communist singing it. The lyrics of the first verse rather got to me.
Not surprisingly, I couldn't get back to sleep so I got up a good half-hour earlier than I intended to! Ghosts, eh?
Last night I dreamed that I saw The Communist's ghost in an old kitchen. I knew it was his ghost, because the kitchen had changed rather since he died. He was quite old and scuttled in a rather guilty fashion across the floor, looking guiltily behind him as though he had no right to be there. When he got to where the door handle used to be, he turned an invisible handle, went through an invisible door and started to go off to the right.
I wanted to catch him up. I didn't think I'd be able to hug him, since he was a ghost, but I was going to have a very good try. To my surprise, I did manage to give him a big hug. "Dad," I said, "I love you." That was it - - he was gone.
My parents were great Paul Robeson fans. My mother once shook his hand at a concert and marvelled ever afterwards at how big his hands were.
The Communist had a lovely bass-baritone voice - not as deep as Paul Robeson's but with a rich, rounded quality to it.
He used to sing the ballad Joe Hill, having heard Paul Robeson sing it.
After my dream, I woke to the remembered sound of The Communist singing it. The lyrics of the first verse rather got to me.
Not surprisingly, I couldn't get back to sleep so I got up a good half-hour earlier than I intended to! Ghosts, eh?
posted by Daphne at 5:41 pm
5 Comments:
Strange dream and I would have found that very unnerving but I think you are made of stronger stuff! Really enjoyed the song - one of my favourites and one I used to sing to my children - for some reason I sang them American freedom songs and folk songs when they were in the bath - others include "If you miss me on the back of the bus" and "The Cruel War is raging" plus a good childrens' song "The Wheels on the bus go round and round"!. I still sing to the dog when I bathe him. sorry I've wandered off the track, but I guess that's what blogs are for.........
Lovely dream, Daphne. I think you had it because you didn't get to say a proper goodbye two years ago. And now you did.
I ended my comment before I meant to, sorry.
My mother died when I was 16, and a few years later I was forgetting the sound of her voice. I couldn't remember how she sounded for the life of me, until one night she appeared to me in a dream and when I awoke I knew the sound of her voice again.
Lovely, proud and defiant. Until this evening, I only knew the Joan Baez version.
That's beautiful.
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