...when I was about 11yrs old. My dream was crazy and long, and vividly colorful. At one point I was floating in the ocean and came upon Steven Tyler (from Aerosmith), and he was shaped kinda like a dingy, and looked like those wooden weebles who, you open and there is another weeble inside, and you open that one, and there is another one inside, over and over. Anyhoo, the dream ended like this: My mother and I were driving to a friend's house to pick up a motorcycle for her. In order for her to get the motorcycle home, she had to drive it, and I was to follow her in our white ford taurus. As we are driving our respected vehicles, something goes wrong. I hear her say "oh, shit" and she loses control of the motorcycle and falls. I can't help but to run her over.
I wake up gasping and panicked, and start to cry.
Years later my mom and I are having one of our 3am talks. I tell her about that dream and I dismiss it by saying that she always talked about wanting a motorcycle. She says that maybe I was subconsciously worried about her dying. Which had never occurred to me since I never really imagined her actually dying. I had imagined my father dying and getting the phone call telling me of his passing. I had imagined that a lot actually. I worked out all different scenarios where I would get the phone call at school or at home, and what my reaction would be. Of course when it happened, it was very different than anything I had ever thought up. But, amongst all my seemingly morbid daydreaming, I had never out-and-out imagined my mother dying.
Now I do all the time.