What Dreams May Come -or- The Healing Force of Cooking

I don't dream often. Well, let's put it this way: if I do dream, I don't remember them when I awaken.
In the quiet of my mother's bedroom, when I first come home from work, I plead for a visit from her in my dreams...so I can see her, hug her, talk to her and know that she's okay and the right decision was made.
It hasn't happened, but something else did and I was ecstatic.

Since my father's passing more than 11-years ago, I can only recall seeing him in one dream, but on the eve of it being four months since my mother passed away, my father came to me in a dream, and it went like this:
Although I did not actually see my mother in the dream, my memory of the dream begins with my husband, Mom and me having breakfast. Mother soon got up from the table (again, I never actually saw her in the dream). She was gone for quite some time and I went looking for her. I couldn't find her anywhere, and after looking in her bedroom and her living room, I came out into the hallway and there was Daddy at the end of the hall. He had the biggest smile on his face. (My dad was always laughing, joking and smiling.) I ran to him and hugged him and he hugged me.
I asked, "What are you doing here, Dad?"
(Even though it was a dream, I was still fully aware that my father had been placed in a nursing home because of his need to wander and that was because of Alzheimer's disease. I knew he should be in the nursing home.)
His reply, "They're all busy there."
(No clue what that meant)
We hugged some more and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt, those hugs were real. To this minute, I still feel his strong arms around me and I still see his comforting smile, assuring me he's fine. I can't even begin to explain how much that means to me. There simply are no words.
We let go of each other and I remember thinking that as soon as I found Mom, I'd see him, again. But I never found my mother, and when I went back to the end of the hallway where Dad had been standing, he was gone.
That was the end of my dream as I remember it.
I awoke.
The dream had played out to such reality that I needed to get out of bed and look around the house. Of course, no one was there.

That was the single most "realistic-feeling" dream I've ever had, and it left a lasting effect on me. Throughout yesterday, I was filled with discontent and torment as I tried to analyze the dream. Clearly filled with joy at seeing Dad, why couldn't I be content with that? Instead, I was also disappointed that I hadn't actually seen my mother's face, and that I hadn't been able to speak to her.

I'm working hard at trying to face my feelings and cope with them. I've learned the importance of allowing my emotions their freedom and the importance of working through my personal pain caused by the loss...usually reaching for a project to work on as I deal with things, and always a project that was taught to me by my mother.

So, it was time for some kitchen therapy.
After a visit to our local Saturday farmers' market, I came home ready to make Heirloom tomato soup, some fresh tomato sauce and some chili.

This is a very, very simple recipe for tomato sauce my mother taught me -- keep in mind, we are the farthest thing from being Italian, so her recipe is likely very different from others. But, it's also very light.

All you need is:
12 plum tomatoes, quartered
4 cloves of garlic
1 large onion, chopped into chunks
Fresh basil
oregano
salt and pepper
olive oil
(Optional -- bell peppers)

Preheat oven to 350-degrees.
Cut the tomatoes and onion into chunks and spread out on a large baking sheet. If you are including peppers in your sauce, cut them into chunks and also place on the baking sheet. Dice or press the garlic cloves and sprinkle across the top. You can use fresh basil and oregano and place the leaves on top, or you can sprinkle your spices over the top. Add salt and pepper to taste, and sprinkle with a light coating of olive oil (I used Organic Blood Orange Olive Oil I bought at the farmer's market).

Pop the baking sheet into the oven for about an hour. It's done when a fork can easily go through the onion. Your house will spell like the inside of an Italian restaurant! Delicioso!

When it comes out of the oven, remove the leaves, then put the roasted veggies into your food-processor. (Back in the day, my mother would use a little chopper she had, since she didn't have a food-processor) Let the whole amount cool to room temperature before storing in the refrigerator. But you can bag this up in zip-locks and freeze it, also.

Here's my sauce -- all fresh and this time, it's all organic, too. Much better than buying it in a jar and it takes no time at all to make.

I'm calling it my Healing Sauce, because that time in the kitchen helped to clear my head and my heart; it took me back to a time when my younger sister and I would stand on the seat of the dining room chairs that Mom had pulled up to the kitchen counter so we could watch her bake; it also enabled me to continue functioning. Ya' gotta' love that.