A dream and a poem
I don't generally put a lot of stock in the interpretation of dreams. I believe dreams are nature's way of reprocessing your thoughts of the day and recycling the brain to be ready for the next day. Anyway, I'm reading the book "The Merry Recluse" by Caroline Knapp. She passed away in 2002 at the age of 42 from lung cancer. She reminds me a lot of my brother in going through vices to the point of self-destruction at an early age.
Anyway that night I had a dream, the last the series so I woke up with the memory of it, or at least what I can remember. It was about a friend, a musician, who, like Caroline, was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was informed she had 2 months of good life left before she would need to be hospitalized for extreme treatments (remember it's a dream and not reality). And likely she would die within months of any treatment anyway.
So she and I went to Paris. She rented an apartment with a view of the Eiffel Tower where she could open the balcony doors to see it lit up at night. She then decided to enjoy her last days of life by playing music with bands in cafes to all hours, going home and sleeping until the next evening, to rise in the early evening to the Eiffel Tower and the city spread before her.
And in the course of staying there she died quietly in her sleep one night. Well I woke up with a thought.
You can get better or worse,
I don't know what it means but I wrote it down to come back and ponder.
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