I Woke From a Dream

There were no unknowns in this morning’s dream - the cast of characters, the setting, the emotions. Some of the plot details are fading, but the feel remains. I can feel a man’s hand on my cheek, and the way my head tilts to rest in the weight of his hand, initially comforting to lean just so. Later in the dream sequence, a look of meanness takes over his face, turning him emotionally into a stranger, warping the facial features and expressions like a Munch scream. But it’s my voice I hear as I ineffectively plead for what I want to happen, the fear and anger and the sense of separation from my child vividly real.

Who is this dream state mate who shifts from lover to betrayer? First thoughts go to an amalgamation of all the important men in my life. But I once learned that the dreamer, who is responsible for creating every character/scene/conflict in a dream, is also represented in every character. If so, it’s my betrayal, not anyone else’s. Who is the “me” in the dream – am I protecting my mother by putting motherhood themes on me, or is it really me? Who’s the child I’m separated from? My actual child, me disguised as a child, or someone completely different that I’m struggling with but I need the dream to transform into a smaller, more powerless person before the leave-taking? I don’t know what the dream was telling me – nor if was about something that has already happened or something that is percolating - a window into recent chafings or a reminder of unresolved struggles which are now so familiar they’re like old friends.

Did this week’s minor disconnect get blown into this? And, if so, which disconnect? It seems I managed a perfect trifecta, with moments of irritation, misunderstanding and loneliness with family, friends, and, of course, myself. I’ve been a bit more tired than usual. My writing has seemed flat. Even my cooking has been uninspired. A series of mis-connections and disconnections amidst an intense and over-filled household schedule. I’m getting everything done, but without time for a full rest – one that lasts more than a few in-breaths. The dream is filled with images of people turning away and not being able to get to the things that are most important.

I know two things – that I’ll never know what the dream was really about, and that I know perfectly well what it’s about. I’m supposed to move in the direction of true, sustained connection, with myself and others. Or, as I told someone recently, I’m supposed to “lean the f___ in” at exactly the moment when I’d like to step back. And I’m not the only one who’s supposed to get this message – it’s quite a good message, in fact - but I’m the one who got it at 4:12 am. I’m now heading into a very, very long day, a precarious way to set me up for just the opposite. Imagine what will be in my dreams tonight.