My Ancestors Approve

I don’t often dream of her, of my nanna. I once woke up and thought she was sitting in the chair near my bed, knitting and rocking as she would have done. But never in dreams.

Last night, we were in Italy. I love Italy. You can walk around a corner and be overwhelmed by some hidden beauty. You feel the warmth of history under your feet as you walk. There are angels on every roof top in Italy, watching over us, gently ruffling their wings.

My nanna never went to Italy so I know this was a dream. Once, when my grandparents had been married for decades, we all chipped in to buy them plane tickets from our home to London just so they could experience it. They never asked us to do this. We did it for us, didn’t we… Like so many things we do in life for others. Are we ever really philanthropic? I am not sure. They liked tractors and the Volvo. Not planes. But, you know, no harm done and they look very happy on the runway in that photo.

So, we are in Italy. I am telling my nanna that in some countries you can’t fit a car down the road so you have to take a scooter or walk (ohhhh that was where the plane thoughts came from…). She has dementia in my dream. Not as bad as it was at the end. When words only came out as an excerpt or a hesitation. When she had forgotten my name and my face or that time she built the tent with the ladder. In my dream, she knows me. 

I carry her in my dream. I carry her along a path with bougainvillea and lumpy, bumpy stones until we reach the hotel. I am working in Italy, in my dream. My subconscious dreams reflecting my conscious dreams here. In the awake world, I dream of Milan and Rome and Venice and teaching in Universities filled with ancient wisdom. Of being part of a lineage of wonder. A woman, me, leading the way. 

As I carry her, a grand canal comes into view. I feel her look upwards and turn. She sees cathedrals and towers, the sky azure and milky where it meets the water. There is a pool between us and the canal and I take us into it. I worry about her dress but she smiles as I wade us through. 

A seal comes. A selkie. In the North East, we have seals aplenty. I love how they turn into graceful, slinky creatures because the water is their rightful place. Is this my rightful place, here is this land, under this sky of awe, carrying those who have walked before me....The seal nods to us and swims around our legs. The tension of the water feels soothing as I walk us up the steps to the plaza. The canal is here. My nanna gasps in pure wonder. Tears roll down my face at her, astonished by the electricity of this moment. 

We find a spot to sit and she dangles her feet in the water, smiling and kicking with joy. And I know that this is her really with me. Her and all the women before me who never got to do this. Who are saying This is your rightful place. You are taking the steps for us that we never could and we hold you up. Everything is here and you made it. 

When I wake, I decide to wear her ring. A thin gold band with tiny diamonds and sapphires. Like the sky in Italy.