Monday, September 26, 2016

dream: my son finds me.

On W. Flight. W/Robbie (cousin, who lived on that street).

He (not Robbie) looks different, down the street - older, darker, approaching, some stranger - than he does when he nears and approaches, "lighter" and younger, asking for "Bob Ryan." (Maybe he included my middle name.) I'm your guy, I say, and over he comes, crossing the street, all the while kind of morphing into a kid, 7 or 8, maybe who looks like a little like Shane.

Not an entirely linear sequence from then but I recall embracing him, him keeping his arms away.

His mother - does my mother know this and tell me? - is Lynn something-something-Swift? Was it Swift. And seemed like a four-name name.

Anyway, I'm, like, who what where huh? 'cause it isn't clicking, at all, and I don't know, have never known anyone by the (first) name of Lynn. And nothing there with Swift, either.

I recall a Lynn from junior high school. Nope.

Nothing is adding up except that he's my son, and that seems real and reasonably certain, somehow, but the math of it is mostly non-existent.

And that's what I'm doing at the end of the dream, trying to put two and two together, added to a pretty strong hunch.

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