I woke up, disoriented to the max.
Foggy and exhausted, as if I’d been running a marathon. In a slumber state. Turns out, I had been. Running, that is. But the image of blue eyeliner pulsing through my brain?
This is it, I thought.
I’ve lost my marbles. All of them, thanks to this nonsensical cerebral event.
And then I remembered. This middle of the night nonsense isn’t new. Sometimes I can glean a muddled version of an epiphany, but gee whiz; it isn’t easy.
I was mad. Awake at 3am while hubster Paul slept blissfully. Offering baby-like deep inhales and exhales instead of his regular symphony of honks and wheezes. (When I can’t sleep, there’s nothing worse than the nearness of someone who’s zonked out. You, too?)
I get up. I harrumph and then I sit. In the chair I rarely sit in that’s south-facing. On a clear night in the distant sky, I detect lights from Chicago. A thin slice of illumination too bright to come from the burbs. Too faint to be near.
I get a glass of water return to the chair that’s been in every room of our house, resting these days as the odd side seat in our bedroom. Tucked in a corner. Outfitted with a tiny table. And a lamp. And a decorative doodad.
I shoved the doodad aside in order to make room for my water but not before giving it a good look. A remnant from cleaning out my mom, Sue’s house. One of the few things I kept because it was a decorative departure for Sue. Not ‘Sue’s signature blue’ like all the vases and plates and bowls and tchotchkes she adored. Blue, blue and blue.
Did I ever mention I hate blue because of Sue?
I do. Hate blue. But the doodad in question was an outlier. A simple painted pot in distressed gold, holding red blooms. Silk ranunculus? Over grown roses? I like it, so it’s retained its spot on the tiny table next to the chair-that-no-one-sits-in.
I think about my dislike for an innocent color simply because it’s evocative of Sue and eventually remember why I’m up, staring at the night sky with a stripe of midnight blue in the distance. I return to my dream and what I can recall:
I’m in a hurry. I’m at a Sephora store. Sitting in an adult highchair while a young woman brings varieties of blue eyeliner to me, on a tray. For my consideration. She babbles about the various shades, and I look at the clock.
I need to go. I’m going to be late for a trip. I need to pack. But I need the blue eyeliner first.
Any blue will do but the woman gets distracted, serves other customers and I begin to sweat. Not delicate drops. Flop sweat. I push past her.
I think I said thank you, but leave empty handed, running to the parking lot. But which one?
The shopping mall got larger, more labyrinth-like while I sat at Sephora, and I don’t know where my car is.
I stop. I self-talk. I look at my watch. It’s fine. You’ll make it, I say to myself and then I see my car…
###End scene###
The only other recall from my dream? A map of the U.S. An old school bulletin-board style map with red push pins marking the spots where I’ve traveled to conferences and meetings, doing presentations of all sorts in my higher ed career. Enjoying the limelight about serving students well, developing programs and interventions to promote student success.
I got up from the chair-no-one-sits-in and grabbed my phone, opening the notes app. Hurriedly jotting down what I recalled from the map in my dream and all the tiny red pin dots identifying travel locations:
San Francisco, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Seattle, Phoenix, Denver, Minneapolis, Kansas City, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Nashville, New Orleans, Atlanta, Orlando, Charlotte, Charleston, New York City…
I put pieces together. I recognize recurrent bits from my dream, especially the late and lost aspects. Not because either happened very often. Nope. Because I was ever on-guard to prevent either from occurring.
Late and lost.
Still two things that are buggers for me.
But the blue eyeliner? Before I gave in and went back to bed, an a-ha arrived. In the spirit of full disclosure, I do own and occasionally wear the controversial shade. Not the bright neon blue from the 80’s but a subtle navy hue. Despite my overall disdain for blue, I’ll concede to it in eyeliner form.
And somewhere? Sue is snickering about my fever dream featuring blue – front and center. An intense pursuit of blue eyeliner which triggered a wave of “late and lost” drama.
I go back to bed, content that I’d processed my dream.
An echo of Sue, the one who loved blue.
The same one who put me on edge for most of my life.
-Vicki
P.S. You might love this post…about a wonderful random encounter with a blue-eyed lady: Don’t Waste the Moments – Victoria Ponders
A little more? Check out this link to learn more about my book about my mom: “Surviving Sue”.
Victoria Ponders 
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