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Sushi and tea and death

A super scattered almost comical dream came through last night.

For some reason I had this boyfriend, whom I don't recognize from dreaming, that apparently died somehow before my dream actually started. I remembered him, his face, our closeness, his smell, his laugh. He had strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, slightly taller than I am, thin, sweet full lips. His name was something typically biblical like John, Mike, or Matt. Can't remember that for some reason.

I went to his funeral and cried like a baby sitting in a pew with his family in a small church. I wanted to see his face, but it was a closed casket. At the time it didn't dawn on me that he may not actually be in that coffin, but I started asking questions later in the dream.

I flashed to another scene where I was in an apartment building looking for him, wandering around the hallways. I felt as if he were still alive. I was carrying this dreadful tension in my chest. As the dream went on, I knew he wasn't dead at all, but that something had happened to him. I began grabbing any dream character I could find, and asking them where my boyfriend was, what had happened to him. Most of the time, they would just dissipate, or wiggle from my grasp.

Finally I found someone who told me that, yes in fact, his body was not in the casket, because they had never found his body. There had been an accident at the lake, and the other bodies had been found. All except my lover's. They assumed him dead after a weeklong hunt. They had dragged the lake, and used dogs to sniff him out, with no luck. I prepared myself to head to the lake to find my love.

But I got distracted. The dream didn't want me to find him. A woman came out from one of the doors in the building and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the room. It was an office. Everyone applauded. I had been chosen to be the new Sales Director. We were a fish merchant company, and I was to be selling large amounts of expensive fish to sushi restaurants in Japan. It was quite lucrative. My office was exquisitely decorated, with a view of a cove where a viking ship was anchored. I looked out, wondering about that ship. It seemed so odd with its huge sails, sitting there in the cove. The water was so blue.

Just then, a trap door in the floor swung open and a lovely Sikh man in his bright red turban handed me a teapot and said something to me in some other language, looking deep into my eyes. He disappeared back into the floor, and I stood there with the teapot laughing at the absurdity of it all.

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