Sunday, August 11, 2019

In the Mist

I wrote this a couple of years ago, it haunts me still...

It's a misty, early morning. I'm sitting, alone, at a small table which itself sits on the veranda of a very large old house. Though I haven't explored the place fully, I know that the veranda wraps around the entire house. Though I don't recall having gone inside, I somehow know that the house is large, very large and has many comfortable and spacious rooms. One might call it a palace if it wasn't for the very down home feel of the place.

The house sits beside a lake, at least I think it's a lake as I can dimly perceive the other side. Whether that dimness is because of the mist or the size of this body of water, I don't know.

I'm wearing a light jacket, to ward off the morning's chill, and I'm enjoying a cup of coffee, gazing out at the lake, which is calm, nearly as still as a mill pond. I can hear the water lapping at the shoreline, but that is the only sound I hear.

Suddenly there is this fellow standing beside me, wearing running kit and from the look of him, just back from a brisk run, he's sweating and puffing slightly. Somehow I sense that I know this man, but I've never met him. With a grin and a nod, he's off again, jogging down the veranda then off into the mist.

I awaken with a palpable sense of loss. I've glimpsed something profound and I don't fully understand what it is I think I've experienced. I know it's a dream, yet, somehow not a dream. I knew that man though I'd never met him in real life. It was the sense of loss though that stayed with me the rest of the day.

It lingers still.

I know who it was I met on that veranda, some of you may know him as well, or someone like him. It's not the first time I've encountered this fellow in my dreams. He knows something that he's not telling.

It's something good, that much I know.

It troubles me that the dreams I used to have of this man have not returned.

Perhaps his message was delivered and there is no more to say. No more that can be said...

Each of us, whether we realize it or not, walk with the past. Beside us, and inside of us, it's there, always.

A dear friend of mine has lost his father recently, I know something of his pain, but for each of us, that pain is different. I can't say that I feel his pain, nor that I understand it fully, the relationships we share within our families vary. Some are close, some are not.

But the pain is there, and it will linger. Always.

The fond memories of that loved one lost will also linger. Cherish those memories.

Peace be with you my friends.

If you have a mind to, stop by here and offer your condolences, Shaun is a good man.


  1. The loss of a loved one, at their journey's end...... Shaun has an interesting blog and I never knew of it until today, thanks Sarge. Reading his July 9th post found a lot of dust in the air, my best friend lost her mother at the end of this month two years ago. She was in hospice at a place I could walk to from my home which I did a number of times while she was there...... ah.... yes, cherish those memories.

  2. I do not like dreams with day long residue. Those are tough and usually rough subjects.

    I feel for Shaun and his family. Those are hard days. Life is sure messy at times. But I have nothing but respect for a man / family that will help his dad die at home, in the comfort of familiar surroundings. THAT is honourable. (When there is that much honor, it has to have the English spelling.)

  3. Returning dreams seem to be linked to unresolved issues.

    So you not returning the dream means, most likely, that the issue was resolved. Maybe sharing it was what was needed, since you have an author's mind.

    As to the title, I was expecting it to be about going to the zoo. Or maybe about Napoleon's Iberian campaign. I am sure you can figure out why...

    1. Don't believe what Western "scientists" say about dreams, much of it is nonsense.

      Gorillas in the mist... (Or is that guerrillas in the mist?)

    2. Dream interpretation relies on too much interpretation. It's an art, not a science. Though dreaming about peeing will wake me up so I can go pee.

      As to the second, both...

    3. There are thing which shouldn't be interpreted, they just are.

      As to the second, took me a minute for the second part of that second thing.

  4. Day by Day...

    1. Damn, I think there's something in my eye...

    2. Muir definitely is an artist who can tell a great tale in a few passages and pictures.

  5. The older we get, the more frequent we read about friends and family passing on. It's an inevitable part of life, but that doesn't mean it gets easier. We walk with the past, but we owe it to ourselves to live fully in the present. I hope Shaun can do that; respects were paid. Thanks for the info.

  6. My wife has had a few dreams, that I don’t think it’s accurate to call them real dreams. Her mother passed away about a year ago. Now, maybe once a week or once a month, my wife tells me how she and her mom we’re hanging out the night before. Sometimes her leg brother joins them.

    Play either meet for lunch or dinner. They might talk about going shopping, or maybe how her mother wants my wife to improve their relationship with her sister. Then there is one time my wife said she went to check on “the house.” She had to go through a checkpoint for crossing “the bridge” to the island. Kind of like your big house with the full wraparound veranda, this was also quite a stately residence. She parked outside, but suddenly felt too sad to go inside. It was later explained to her, that you are not allowed to go inside while you still have the standard connection with our world...

  7. Ooops, Sorry for the grammar mistakes!


Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)