The last time – twig and feather

I had a dream last night … and let me tell you, it was a doozy.

The last time – twig and feather: I hope you find some

In this dream, I was in a foreign land, or so I thought, until I realized it was Brooklyn. Dave was there with me, and someone asked him to do a Catholic funeral at a place that was supposed to be a large church, but which ended up being big and expansive, like a sports stadium, except that it also felt like a small, intimate bowling alley. Ours was the biggest.

Someone put me in charge of lighting the candles, of which there were perhaps — all in different shapes and sizes, tucked here and there and everywhere. Some were hurricane lamps, some were tea lights, some were votives, tucked way down deep in giant mason jars. All they gave me for my task was a box of stick matches, so I kept having to strike a new one every few candles, and the wicks were too far down on a lot of the hurricane lamps, so I kept having to blow out my match and stop and tug on those blackened wicks.

The whole time I was lighting the candles and lamps, these disapproving Catholic church ladies kept circling and watching me, and tsk-tsking my candle-lighting performance. This may have accounted for some of the tsking. I thought I was dressed appropriately for a funeral I was wearing black pants and a black blazer, and a silky red blouse , but people started asking me when I was going to change my clothes.

I saw my friend, Janet B. Another friend, Teresa T.