White= clean and pure (Don’t worry, this has nothing to do with race.)
Gardens = growing things, life
Terrycloth = serious work
I dreamed I was in the bathroom of the old house on North Abilene. I really had to pee! The room was just like I remembered it and I was a little apprehensive only because the cellar door was behind the bathtub and it always gave me the creeps.
I noticed water gushing out the water faucet in the bathtub so I got up and struggled a little to get it turned off. The water was clear and clean; it was very cold.
When the water was off, I noticed a lady in the bathtub. I didn’t recognize her and thought it was weird to have a stranger bathing in grandma’s tub.
Her bathwater was all milky from having used so much soap.
I headed toward the door (at a casual pace) and she got out of the water and put on a clean, white, terrycloth bathrobe.
I turned and asked her, “Are you a ghost?”
“No.” She said. “But you are.”
I walked toward the living room where all my relatives, living and dead, were gathered.
I was intrigued by the Lady of the Tub and wondered if the whole family were ghosts, like me. I tried to ask her, but she had just slipped through the back door off the kitchen. She was gone. I could not ask a single question. I was bewildered.
I tucked the dream away and at the first opportunity, I took it to the Wise Woman, la curandera
With both hands I took the dream and placed it in the looking bowl.
“Well,” I said, “What do you think of that?”
La curandera and I let our minds work in the soft, open way, the way of intuition and visions as we examined the dream; we used the mind of scientists when they are first inspired, long before they form a hypothesis, long before they ask questions, while they are still full of wonder. Thedream was intact, safe in the looking bowl and we each had enough curiosity to keep it stirred.
Of course, I can’t reveal the dream secrets. To do so would rip it to shreds. But I can tell you, that as we worked with the dream, the dream came back to life. I was able to follow the Lady of the Tub. She’d gone through the kitchen door and into the garden. She was standing in a sunny spot, waving and smiling. She was me, the spirit. She was calling me out of the past. She was real while I had been like a ghost, creeping around in a dusty old house that doesn’t even exist anymore. I was invigorated by the realization that the true me is a spiritual, energetic, empowered and apparently fairly clean being.
At that moment I remembered a line from one of my favorite movies, Bulworth. In the movie, an old, very mysterious man tells the protagonist, “Don’t be no ghost, Bulworth. Ya got to be a spirit! Don’t be no ghost.”
Yes, I say. I got t’ stay woke. I ain’t no ghost.