The Dreams

I’ve been dreaming of my parents, Celia and Butch, lately.  I don’t know why and the dreams make no sense to me.  They are like fleeting fog as I awake.  I try to grab at them to remember and dissect only you can’t hold onto mist.

The other night the dream I partly remember is that a friend of mine was having another baby – her 10th.  She couldn’t handle another baby and told me that I was the only one she trusted to adopt the baby.  I agreed because I knew that baby was meant to be mine.  I knew it was crazy to even consider.  I am a single, working mom who is having trouble figuring out how to pay for daycare for an elementary school child and I’m adopting a baby?  But in my heart, I knew this was the right decision.

Then Celia and Butch showed up.  They came to tell me that I couldn’t do it, couldn’t possibly understand how stupid my decision was, and a few other arguments that I don’t remember.  It is very odd to me that the first part of the dream where I’m making the decision to adopt this baby and making arrangements to pick him or her up is crystal clear but the part that involved Celia and Butch is fleeting and misty.

Last night’s dream is even more misty.  I knew Celia and Butch were in it but I don’t know what they were doing there.  I do remember feeling thwarted.  I have a vague recollection of being at a friends house; a very large house.  She had three bedrooms in the basement that weren’t being used.  I suggested that we turn them into suitable rooms to house abused women who need a safe place to stay as they leave their abusers.  I told her that we could work with the local domestic violence agency to be a safe house.

I don’t know that Celia and Butch knew what I was doing because it had to remain a secret for safety reasons.  I just remember them being there and telling me I can’t do things.

Even in my dreams I don’t have supportive parents.  Even in my dreams my parents are actively trying to destroy me.  I think maybe it comes down to the fact of how I’m feeling in real life.  I feel defeated.  I’m overwhelmed and I desperately need help.  Parents are supposed to help their children.  Except for mine.  Instead of helping me when I needed it, they turned on me.  They sided with my abuser and tried to help him take my kids away.  Who does that?

Celia got her “closure” with her letter of a few months ago.  I realize that I’ll never have closure in regards to them because I will never be able to ask them and get a reasonable answer to find out why they did what they did.  I will be left to wonder how a parent could so completely turn on their child as to side with her abuser.  I need to work through this but right now, it feels unworkable.  How does one reconcile something that is so abhorrent to them that they can’t wrap their brain around it?

Today, I miss my parents.  I miss who I thought they were.  I certainly don’t miss living in the dysfunction I can clearly see now, but I miss believing that my parents love me.  I’m now an outcast, unloved by the people who brought me into this world because I wasn’t who they demanded that I be.  I developed a mind of my own and made decisions that, for me and my children, were necessary for our safety.  Those decisions didn’t fit within their paradigm and that was intolerable to them.  I wasn’t loved unconditionally.  I was only loved as much as I fit in their box.

I’m too strong, too independent, and too unwilling to maintain the status quo for them to truly love me.

My heart is broken today.


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