When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
I’ve kept a dream notebook since 1988. It’s 4 x 6 with graph paper. It’s taken 34 years to fill because I only remember three or four dreams a year. And never a single wolf in a tree. I read Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams in college and have always relished analyzing dreams, believed they were windows in the psyche. Most of my dreams are violent, often I’m being chased by someone who wants to hurt me. Usually people who are minor characters show up to give me a plate. I’ve been run over many times including by my agent in a tractor.
Do you remember your dreams, do you analyze them?
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Betsy Lerner 
Bet. Almost every night. I would say 60% would qualify as nightmares but chemicals render them merely irksome. 40% are very amusing. Last night, Hillary and Chelsea had me over to dinner at their brownstone in Brooklyn. It got late so they had me stay the night in their charming guest room (bathroom em suite). Despite discovering in the morning that I had trashed the room, they drove me to the parking ramp where I left my car (been to this ramp in many, many dreams). Hillary herself talked the manager into taking the boot off my car. And thank god, because it was snowing one of those horrible heavy wet snows. I don’t care what anyone might say, these two are just the nicest. Really lovely people.
Well. I’m turning in. Let’s see what I get tonight.
Some I do and some I don’t. And I do analyze them, in a kind of soph year psychology way. For a while I had a recurring dream where I was able to swim in air and I just kept floating through life. Didn’t take much to analyze that one.
I’m back in college, riding a bike, trying to find the building where finals are being given. I’m getting more and more stressed because I haven’t been to any of the classes and still haven’t bought the books. It’s always a relief to wake up, remember that I’m eighty, and the only thing I have to do is nothing.
Same.
My most recent that I remember:
There is a bear behind me – I’ve seen it. A grizzly type. BIG. And for the life of me, I can NOT get my leg to move so I can step into the doorway that will save me.
I have tried to figure them out. I think anything about persecution and being unable to move is supposed to mean feeling trapped. 🤷🏻♀️
Decades ago, my beloved grandmother and I once had the same dream, on the same night. The next morning, she started our conversation by saying “now let me tell you what happened when I walked into that house.”