On the bright side, I know for sure there are no creepy china dolls in the trunk. When my sister and I first explored the contents we couldn't handle the damaged dolls, and agreed that no antique monetary value would make up for the nightmares. The hats inside were a different story, a fabulous shared experience for grown siblings.
Now I can't remember what is inside the trunk, but I'll have to empty it before it can be moved. No buried treasure, and hopefully no buried family secrets. Perhaps the value will be in practicing with Excel to catalog the contents.
Lately I'm aware of dreams about my deceased parents. My mother died in 2005. For a long time she only appeared in my dreams as a small gray-green bird. Now she usually appears as herself in the early Eighties as a delighted grandmother.
My dad has been gone a year and a half. He has started appearing in dreams, but only in his elderly, demented, and immobile condition.
My dear great aunt who owned the trunk was trapped in my memory for decades as she looked in her open casket, shockingly waxy and unreal. Finally she is returning to my memory and dreams as the character and mentor she was. This is a big argument against open casket funerals as far as I am concerned. Blasting away fond mental images of a person's life with one bizarre image of death seems like a sacrilege.
Here are a few photos of the early trunk exploration last evening:
|Very heavy full, and still heavy emptied.|
© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder