"Sisters" Dream

I was walking through the house where we all lived (my entire extended family) and when I passed Barbara's bedroom, she came dancing out in a long, swirly skirt, a costume of some sort, and someone said, "Barbara's going to perform in Afghanistan!"

And then, suddenly, it didn't make any sense. Until then, apparently, it had made sense that Barbara still lived with us, could be seen and heard and touched and spoken with. But going on a trip, performing in some play? "How can you be going to Afghanistan," I demanded, "when you're --"

She glared at me, inclining her head toward her daughter. It was Tisho, still a teenager, and Tisho, in real life, is Wendy's daughter (and she's in her mid-thirties), so this dream was a bit confused, but one clear thing was that Barbara didn't want me to say, "You're dead!" in front of the young girl.

"Come with me," I said, taking Barbara's arm, "and let's go someplace where we can talk, because I need to understand what's happening."

"You can't understand it," said Barbara, as we walked down the hall. Then, to tease me for presumption, she added, "And heaven will be alarmed, you know, if you try."

"Oh, no, I don't mean I'm going to try to understand the how or the why. Just the WHAT. For example, can you appear and disappear?"

She nodded.

"And sometimes are you visible to some but not others?"

"Yes."

We found a room and sat on a bench there, I still holding onto her arm with one hand and clasping her hand in my other hand.

"And is all this under your own control?"

"Yes."

That seemed very, very cool. "Oh!" I said, "So you're a bit like Samantha, then."

"Samantha?"

"You remember. That woman in the television series who was a witch and was married to the guy named Darren. She twitched her nose to make things happen..."

Barbara began chomping her teeth, and somehow I knew that was her equivalent of Samantha's nose twitch.

"No, don't do that!" I cried. The sight of her was already fading. "No, I don't want you to go away!" But by the time I had said it, she had already disappeared, and the solid feel of her was draining out of my hands like sand, until they were empty.

She didn't actually say, "Until next time," but she managed to convey that message. But there was no way to tell when the next time would be, how long it would be from now. Too, too long, in any case.

"Oh, Wendy, oh, Wendy! I miss you so much!" I cried, and I have no idea why it came out "Wendy!" instead of "Barbara!" but in the dream it seemed to make sense.

I felt so bereft, I sobbed until I woke up, calm, though sad. I do miss her so very much! (Wendy, too, as she lives so far away.)

I suppose I dreamed that because Barbara's birthday is going to be this week.