Things to think about tomorrow

Strange dreams last night; my mother hurrying me along because Aunty was waiting for us at some kind of turnstile or something. I turned to her confused.

'But Aunty's dead,' I said. And in reality she is. I have another aunt living, but the word Aunty always referred to my mother's eldest sister. In the dream, my mother dismissed my words. Then we were in some beautiful cottage with a garden around us and a town/village below. I lay on the grass in the sunshine and slept for a while.

The sombre edge of the dream probably has two sources in waking life; the first was the new National Emergency Alert siren sound tested yesterday on all our phones. I'm still not convinced of its use. It's going to warn us of life threatening situations like what? Extreme weather and flooding, they say. I can't help feeling that anyone close to these situations won't need a siren. It's all a bit creepy, a bit Threads.

The other was the conversation with Mum about funeral arrangements in time to come. She veers between extremes of utter avoidance and cool pragmatism on the subject, so I have never brought it up. This time she did, and talked about how she had a little set aside for her funeral, and wanted to divide this amount between me and my brother in special accounts. It made me groan quietly, and I told her to just make a will, no need for anything beyond a legally ratified document specifying her wishes in as much detail as she wants, saves a lot of trouble. Why would money for her funeral need dividing between us? But I don't think she will listen. I didn't get to go and see Aunty's place of rest because Mum, who at first seemed ok about it, froze on the idea. She was mortified and angry that she wasn't invited to the funeral, despite the fact that it was in the middle of Covid and only two people were allowed to attend by law. These ended up being my aunt and uncle who looked after Aunty in her last days. There was nothing untoward about it, though it was very sad. But in the end, Mum was too upset to consider paying our respects so we didn't.

As I understand it, the cremated remains of many members of the family are kept on some kind of shelf/family columbarium in San Jose cemetery. I daresay it's more dignified than it sounds. I don't quite understand and at some point I need to look and see. The nice thing is that the cemetery is very close to the Alhambra complex; I love the idea of old phantoms so close to the heart of the city's beauty, as though any unquiet slumberers could look out over the landscape and be at peace.

I have no idea what Mum actually wants, though for myself, I don't think I want my remains to be kept in an urn anywhere, even next to hers, even with the family. Ideally for me it would be some biodegradable casket affair, a burial crowned with a sapling, one of those tall trees that murmurs in the wind. Some place for birds to sing, a help to all on this earth, good for the land, good for those who breathe, and my idea of perfect art. That would please me.

A bit like the dream last night where I was just lying on the grass asleep in the sunshine. Nice resolution.