I had the most wonderful dream last night. This is unusual for me. Ever since I was very young, the majority of my dreams have been nightmares. Last night’s dream did have some bad moments but most of it felt remarkably fantastic.
So here’s the story: I went back to Clark Air Base, Angeles City, Philippines, in an effort to find my nanny Veronica. I couldn’t recall her last name, but I felt certain I could track her down if she was still alive. I was aware, yet also oblivious, that trying to find an aging Filipino named Veronica in Angeles City was absurd.
Still, I soldiered on.
I walked into the first house that felt like one in which I’d find Veronica. A house that seemed perhaps like one in which I lived. I asked the woman in residence if she knew anyone named Veronica.
“No,” she said politely, without questioning why I was in her home.
I asked her again.
“Yes,” she said, “actually I do.”
At that moment I felt a finger in my arm, and heard a voice say, “It’s you.”
I turned and it was Veronica. She was old and half of her jaw was missing (scary part). We hugged and cried.
As I began to tell her about my father’s death, Beau suddenly appeared in a big chair near us. He had Alzheimer’s and was mumbling. Veronica looked lovingly at him. I was thinking, “Wait, I guess he’s not dead.” But then Beau disappeared as quickly as he’d materialized.
I told Veronica that I needed a place to sleep. She took me to a French boarding school for girls and they provided me with a couch. I kept trying to get a picture of me with Veronica but my iPhone wouldn’t cooperate. Each of the pictures only showed me.
I sat and listened to the French lessons before I fell asleep.
And then I woke up for real in my own bed.