I walked up to the front desk area. Being outdoors, this consisted of a square bridge table, a small cash box, some type of notebook and a guy sitting to the right side on an outdoor beach chair. As I walked up to the table, I heard behind me some kids.
“He’s 79 years old,” the first child said.
“No, he’s not,” argued a second child.
“I am 89,” said a deeper, older sounding voice.
I turned around to see a woman helping to guide an older man, still standing tall, with large features, who appeared to be blind. The woman guided the man to a seat a little ways off from where I was. I turned backed to the man by the table. I must have had an inquisitive look, as he started, “Every year, that family works very hard. They pack up what little they have and come here for one week. They always stay in the In-Out section.”
I noticed that tears started to well up in his eyes. “Yes, I have gotten to know them quite well over the years. Usually there are three out of four that come to stay and always in the same spot. Not only is he blind, but a number of years ago, the daughter was badly hurt traveling back to their home in Glen Rock…”
“Did you say Glen Rock?” I asked.
The lady had just walked up and said, “Yes, Glen Rock.”
“As in Glen Rock, New Jersey?” I asked. That was the town I grew up in. I am not sure she heard as she began to talk. I was now curious if I knew them or they of us, even though I last lived there 30 years ago. Then my alarm woke me up…
As I sat in my kitchen thinking about this dream, there are definitely parts of the dream that are reflection of my life. Debbie and I have family that are less independent then they used to be and do need help. And, yes, I grew up in a little town called Glen Rock. I am left, however, to once again wonder if our dreams are reflections of what we live or, at times, trying to subconsciously tell us something.