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Breaking Through the Surface

Not all my dreams are good. Sometimes I can't keep the troubles away, as much as I try to stave them off by staying busy. The pain and fear bubbles up and breaks through the surface in my dreams. I think because I briefly spoke about them today to Tom, it was bound to come roaring back to me.I woke to tears streaming down my face, and can't stop. Desperately wanting to talk to someone, but since it's late I am venting it here.

The last image I recall is the face of my beautiful niece, crying...

The dream begins in my apartment, and people are arriving. I can't understand why a couple of guys I knew from high school show up, and my mom is over at the time. My place is a wreck, and I began cleaning. More people arrive- and I realize in shock I had been volunteered to host NTN, without my consent. I have no beer, no food. Chrissy arrives, and reminds me that she had asked me for directions to my house. The high school acquaintances- boys I knew well but never paid much attention to me- leave to buy beer, and Elise and another girlfriend graciously clean the kitchen.

Next thing I know my sister Crystal is here- she starts opening drawers, and the oven. I tell her to stop, but she continues. It iss obvious her mental illness is in full onslaught. She pulls out a heavy cast iron broiler shelf, which falls to the floor and hits my ankle. I tell her to put it back, but she complains that she couldn't do it by herself, and so I try to help her put it back but she won't exert any effort.

My mom is driving a car, and we're with Crystal. It's dark, and on the side of the road I see Jason along with two of his friends, going home after a party. I point them out to mom, but she keeps driving. I am panicked because I've left my car behind, and will have to depend on someone else to get me back later. However, the next moment we ARE in my vehicle, but my mom is driving wrecklessly. I tell her to slow down, but she speeds up instead. We go over a curb, and are in a parking lot. I struggle with her for control of the car, she threatens to hit me but I hit her first. She lets go and is in the back seat, but I know it's not over. Crystal isn't herself anymore- she's her daughter. The back window is broken, the car seat isn't fastened, and the four year old is climbing around. I drive the car out, between a narrow gap between a car and a fence. I get out to survey the damage, and I am so angry I stalk off. Next thing I see is my niece/sister, running up to me- golden brown curls framing her eyes swollen from crying and her face twisted with concern.

She says, "I'm sorry that I didn't stay in my carseat! I'm sorry I made you angry! I'm sorry your car got messed up!"

The anger breaks, and I take her into my arms. We are standing in some sort of industrial site, behind a gate that was supposed to be locked, with pools of oil and rusty equipment strewn about. I see some men start walking towards us, and I realize that I need to get my niece/sister to a safer place.

...and then I woke up, sobbing. Full of a sense of helplessness and sadness. Especially because I recognize the context of my dreams:

- I confronted my mother in April about the abuse from my childhood- the second and only productive time we've addressed it.
- It will be ten years in September since my sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and she hasn't been on medication in over a year.
- I am distressed over the lack of routine and discipline for my niece. She's not my daughter, but I've spent a lot of time and energy raising her. At the age of six weeks I took care of her daily for a month, while my sister was disconnected due to her illness.
- My sister and I haven't talked in two months, and I fear she's not contacted me because she's masking a potential manic episode. She knows that if I or my youngest sister find out, we'll want to deal with it along with my parents.

All I can do now is go back to bed.



Jul. 1st, 2005 12:19 pm (UTC)
I'm sorry kid. Obviously certain aspects of your past are really causing chaos i your sleep. I'm having some crazy ass dreams too this week and am completely unrested.

As for abuse growing up. My mother and I had the talk a while back and it turned out well. My father and I will never have the talk and he will never conceed. He's the biggest problem too. Sometimes you just have to do you best to let it go. it's hard though. Very hard.

Here's to better dreams tonight.
Jul. 2nd, 2005 04:32 am (UTC)
My mom and I had a good talk, but we still need to work on it. My dad was actually no part of it- he was oblivious, because my mom would make us promise not to tell him. Plus she usually hit us on a not so obvious place, usually the back.