Dream Journal: Laying Ghosts

I dreamed of my mother last night -- or rather, I dreamed that she dreamed of me. The way the story revealed itself was somewhat confused, but here's how I understood it as a whole.

I found myself in a slight variant of the house I grew up in. It was the middle of the night and I heard my mother calling out for various family members. I got up and found her wandering down the corridor. She was in the confused and frail state of my next-to-last visit. I took her back to bed and she kept asking me to explain what was going on. I tried to explain to her that, in my reality, she was dead, and therefore she must be dreaming this. But the explanation didn't take hold and I kept having to repeat it.

The seasons had moved on, it was spring and the flowers were blooming. And I thought, if death meant continuing on in a dreamland, weren't you supposed to revert back to your prime, rather than being stuck in an eternity at the end of life? It didn't seem fair.

So I forced myself to wake up (out of the dream within a dream, so I was still in the first-layer dream) and there was something confused about moving or preparing for a camping trip and the last thing I recall before my alarm went off was admiring someone else's racing bicycle that had an incredibly light frame (made out of some sort of fiberglass or plastic) such that you could toss it up in the air with one hand. And I was deciding that I had to get a bike like that.