The Divorce & Money Dream

My wife and I divorced. We then went on a vacation together, where we stayed in a mid-range luxury condo. Her sisters were there, in adjoining places, along with their children. We were all younger than in RL by thirty years or so. My wife – B – and I had dinner and then attended a presentation on the environment and climate change in a huge, packed auditorium lit with golden chandeliers. The speaker was a good-looking man with a gold tan who had bestselling books on the subjects. My wife met him after the presentation. They fell in love and married.

I went back to my condo. My wife came to visit. We could see into her new husband’s place, as it was next door. Large and modern, it featured realms of glass. Golden lights lit it inside. B told me that the home was enormous, taking up two entire floors of the luxury townhomes next door, and that her new husband was dying. He passed the next day, leaving everything to B. She announced that as part of that, she was receiving over $13,000 a month in royalties.

I was happy for her but startled by that amount. We’d been there for almost a week and I needed to leave soon. I didn’t have reservations to fly out but had a day and a half left before I needed to get back so I decided not to make reservations yet. I was very busy at that point. The condo had become a little cluttered with piles of coins. My nieces and nephews began collecting them and taking them to my sisters-in-law and wife, who kneeled on the carpet divided the piles of coins among themselves. This didn’t worry or bother me because I’d discovered large caches of cash which belonged to me. I was happy for them to take the coins, but every time I turned around, I discovered another pile of coins.

Then, oh no, I was late for leaving and I hadn’t made a reservation! I chastised myself, thinking if I had made reservations, I wouldn’t be late because I would have had more structure. I succeed more with structure.

A man came by and informed me that I needed to leave, and that if I didn’t I would be fined. I laughed at the threat and noted that I had cash on hand and my ex was receiving $13,000 a month in royalties. The man left. I told the rest of my party that I needed to leave and would be departing shortly. My ex-wife said something back about the need to take care of her new inheritance. She was to go into her ‘new place’ to inventory its contents. I asked her about the hold up, and she said, “There’s a lot of places,” and held up keys. One key ring with keys were hanging on another key ring of keys. “He has places all over town. And you should see the cars.”

Dream end

Sunday’s Theme Music

My wife declared, “I love this weather.” It’s a cool Sunday. June 12, 2022. Clinging mists obscure the downslopes of pine and hardwood trees. The temperature dropped fast last night. It’s back up to 63 F but with clouds and rain dominating, that’s the day’s high. And it’s peculiar, as I was out last night with the cat, admiring the bright moon. “Pretty nice, isn’t it?” I said to him. “Not quite a full moon. I like the air’s smell. It’s so fresh.”

“That’s a waxing gibbous.” The cat yawned and stretched. “About ninety to ninety-five percent, I’d say. Rain’s coming.”

I checked, and he was right about the moon. Clouds stormed in, delivering a snare-drum rain performance before sunrise at 5:34 AM. Sunset: 8:47 PM.

Songs about flying fill the morning mental music stream. Don’t know what the neurons are thinking with that; did I have a flying dream that I don’t remember? Or are they gaslighting me?

But looking out the window reminded me of Germany. We lived there in the eighties while stationed at Rhein Main AB. Clouds and rain were frequently experienced in that region. The neurons eventually began singing “Jammin’ Me” by Tom Petty (1987). They didn’t give a reason although it might be that friends and I were discussing this song because we’d gone to see The Grateful Dead. Conversation had turned to Bob Dylan, and one person mentioned that Bob Dylan wrote this song with Tom Petty and Mike Campbell. Could be. The reflective trip down the memory highway ended with the usual refrain, wonder where those guys are now?

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: