I Hate Bad Dreams
Treun and I have the weekend to ourselves since the kids are with Bubba. We decided to take advantage of this and have his best friend, Neil, and Neil’s girlfriend, June, over for a cook-out.
We got up Saturday morning and Treun took me home. We’d just left his truck at my house Friday night because it was so late when we got back from taking the kids to Bubba that we were too tired to drive the extra 20 minutes it would take to pick his truck up. He ran to the grocery store first for peaches so I could bake a pie, then he dropped me off. He had chores to do so this worked out nicely. I got the kitchen cleaned up, baked the pie, cleaned the kitchen again, took a shower, and headed back to Treun’s house.
We once again went to the grocery store to get the rest of the stuff needed for the cook-out. I decided to make some pasta salad and we thought that grilling chicken would be a good idea. I made the pasta salad at his house. I am truly getting very comfortable in his house. I really enjoyed cooking and puttering around his kitchen. I just feel like I belong here. It rather blows my mind away that I’ve come to feel so at home here so quickly.
Neil and June arrived around 5:00. Eventually, we fired up the grill and got the chicken cooked. We sat inside and ate and just enjoyed the wonderful conversation. Somehow, at one point, the conversation turned to mothers. June talks to her mother every day, Neil has a good relationship with his mother, and Treun speaks to his step-mother often (his mom passed away a few years ago). Neil asked if my mother was still alive and thankfully, June was talking at the same time, so I was able to avoid the question. I didn’t want to go into the “whys” of Celia. I just didn’t want to talk about my mother, a woman who threw her own child under the bus, when they were all talking about how close they were to their mothers.
When the subject of exes came up, I simply said that mine was a “special kind of special.” I didn’t go into much of it at all but to say that he is really not a nice man.
Well, when one doesn’t discuss things, one tends to process them later – in dreams. Neil and June left around 10:30 and Treun and I were so exhausted that we simply went to bed and fell asleep. It was around 3:00 that I poked Treun and asked him to roll over because he was snoring. I slept fitfully after that. I don’t know what time it was, but I had a bad dream about Celia, Bubba, and the rest of the Family of Origin (FOO).
In the dream, Treun and I were living together and they came to invade my space. Celia walked in my front door and hugged me. I was stunned. We started talking about the fact that I didn’t want her to touch me and she told me that I didn’t get a say in it. I asked Celia what she would do if a man told her he didn’t want to be hugged and she said she wouldn’t hug him. I asked all of my FOO and they all said the same thing; women can’t say no, but men can. I started screaming at them that women have an absolute right to their bodies and they CAN say no and have it respected. I knew the futility of what I was saying but I couldn’t stop trying to convince them that they were W.R.O.N.G!
I awoke with a start. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to wake Treun up again, so I grabbed a blanket, wrapped up in it, and headed to the living room. I curled up on the chair and sobbed. I hate bad dreams. I hate that they can reopen those old wounds; the wounds I thought had healed. Grief in strange in its cyclical nature. I don’t know that wounds are ever truly healed. Either that or it is just too easy to reopen them because old wounds always come back around. Maybe it is just another aspect of the topic that I haven’t dealt with. I know it feels like something I’ve already worked through but maybe there is something new there that I haven’t considered that my subconscious needs to work through. I just know that it feels horrible to be experiencing these bad dreams.
Treun came out when he woke up to find me curled into a ball on his chair. I told him about the dream and that I didn’t want to wake him up. He hugged me. I talked to him and he listened. He said that he knows that what I’ve gone through left me with PTSD. I told him that I’ve gotten really good at working through these episodes and they are coming fewer and farther between.
Maybe someday the bad dreams will go away permanently. I can hope.