I Had a Dream…

Perhaps not as lofty as Martin Luther King, Jr.’s, but I’m convinced meaning lies within.

In my dream, I was at my Aunt Mary’s house (my real great aunt). But Aunt Mary’s house wasn’t Aunt Mary’s house. Her real house is an old two-story with lots of dark wood and antique fixtures. The dream house was a three-story house with the same dark wood and antique fixtures, but everything was far grander. The entire house just oozed Victorian beauty and charm.

When the dream started, I was running up the stairs from the second floor and I went into a third floor bedroom. My sister was sitting on the bed. I sat down next to her and we started talking about nothing important. Then, my sister suddenly mentioned that Laura was supposed to leave that morning.

I knew that Laura was our house guest, a classical or jazz singer who was famous, but not so famous that she couldn’t sleep over.

Upon hearing this reminder about her departure, I ran from the bedroom and back down the stairs to the second floor, where the Laura-in-question’s luggage was still in her room, and then continued on to the ground floor.

When I came off the bottom of the stairs, there was a huge parlor-like living area to the left, which had lots of windows and natural light pouring in, and I was facing the kitchen, which was also radiating with natural light.

Standing with her back to me was Laura, steeping a teabag in a mug. She turned around and, yes indeed, it was this Laura.

The sunlight shone upon her, giving her an ethereal glow… and making her hair look oh so shiny. She leaned against the counter and sipped her tea, carrying on a conversation with me in both English and Italian, which I amazingly understood.

Then a car came to pick her up and she left.

And I was sad.

And now I can’t help but wonder…

What exactly is the meaning of a dream in which an Italian is drinking tea?