Those dreams varied in form and duration and complexity. Sometimes the boulder would speak to him, not audibly, but the words would be placed in his mind and the only visual aspect of these dreams was the boulder with a bright white background. Many times the dreams would be every day scenes of him working in his shop near the boulder or out at client meetings and there the boulder is with them. Other times the dreams would take on nightmarish states with scenes of fire, destruction, and blood, and the boulder was there in the midst of it all, stolid and undisturbed.
Aldo went and saw a therapist about the dreams, thinking he was not completely or properly dealing with the death of Sheila, and the therapist merely reiterated his thoughts. It wasn’t that the dreams were disrupting his quality or amount of sleep, no, he felt rested and energetic every morning. It was that he had never experienced such repetition in his dreams before. One thing the therapist suggested, that Aldo did put into practice, was documenting his dreams in detail, in a journal. That didn’t necessarily eliminate or lessen the frequency of the dreams, which would only happen after the workshop was finished. Journaling the dreams simply aided his memory in recalling the details of them and helped him to start picking out patterns and repeating themes. As time went on and with it the reappearance of the boulder in his sleep state, Aldo didn’t think the dreams were caused by his grief or inability to grieve over Sheila because she wouldn’t appear in all of them, but only the one scene of her in their car.
A Page a Day 