Mediterranean Lily

I left something out.

I think there was probably one man looking down at me. I worry, however, that more than one man was in the dream. The wonderful one…

…

At one point in the dream I was being held. In someone’s lap. And he was youngish. 20’s. Handsome. And I had the sense that he was supposed to be comforting me and holding me like a parent. …Supposed.

He looked a lot like F. Scott Fitzgerald.

…

The thing is…I found him attractive. And at first he seemed to be scolding me for finding him attractive. But then…he closed his eyes and seemed defeated. And…he admitted that he didn’t feel like a parent. Never had. No matter how much he’d wanted to. I was hurt that he’d ever wanted to think of me as a parent. He was empathetically hurt that I was hurt.

Then the dream shifted…

At the time…that part of the dream was disturbing. I had found this perfect man and he wanted to treat me like a father?!!?! And what’s worse is that he found me attractive too.

…And how could someone find me attractive in their 20’s and then…try to parent me?! This man wasn’t old enough to be my father. And I didn’t fully realize he might be a ghost.

*laugh*

You know when I first read about the Kennedy family I read about Joe Kennedy Sr.. And I had a crush on him first. I read his biography in some magazine and decided I could “read him” and that I’d love to have put him in his place and been able to teach him a lesson about how not all women were or are evil. How some women actually cared. Care. Teach him not to be so callous. To women. Because I thought he seemed “fake evil” on a certain level to me. …And I had a huge crush on him.

…

But then I saw a photo of Joe Jr. after reading about the whole family and I thought he was more dashing… And years later I saw Lem. And Lem seemed…astoundingly handsome. Too handsome to ever notice me if we’d have met.

…

But I focused on Joe Jr. For whatever reason he became my absolute ideal. I compared everyone to him. Living and dead.

…In the dream his father was probably better looking. Lem and I might have been madly in love. And possibly other ghosts said hello. But…Joe Jr. ran the dream. It was his face I saw as I woke up. And then all of the men became him in my mind.

Until recently. Because in truth, Elliott Roosevelt was a better pilot. And for years I’d had Joe as a brilliant, naturally gifted, expert pilot in my mind…

Dear Jr. God be with him.

Until later.