I had an interesting dream last night. And as much as i'm aware that countless people tell others their dreams in an effort to either get them to answer questions or to make themselves sound more interesting, i thought this one was especially relevant given all these issues i've been dealing with about my personal disaster. I also feel like i have to get this stuff out—in the process of purging. The next piece i have in mind will have me recounting as many stories and memories as i can think of to pull them to the surface and loosen their power on me.
So, i'm in my parent's house, standing in their kitchen. I think my mother is behind me but my dad is sitting at the table in the crowded dining room. I'm yelling at him and saying something like that he's a little man or that i don't care what he thinks or that he's insignificant. Then i realize, by saying it, that it reaches the point as it would when i was a kid where i pushed him to the point of violence. There would be this moment when his rage would come out and he could no longer control it. Sometimes i knew when i was about to do it and sometimes it would come by surprise but i got to learn that small moment when the air shifted and i needed to run.
At the moment in my dream where i said what i said and the air snapped and he burst slightly from his seat, i watched him pick up a hanger that was sitting on the table. Then i turned my back and crossed my arms and he beat me on my back right side with it. I said or thought something like "you can't hurt me anymore" or "it doesn't hurt" and it didn't. I didn't feel any pain even though i could see, from above, the welts on my back. He never really left his seat at the table—i guess a testament to his usual aloofness. Then i walked away and went upstairs.
My mom was upstairs in a room with me—distraught but also inactive. She seemed upset that this was all occurring, like she would be when i was younger and he would hit or slam me but it seemed her fear of him over-rode any instinct to help me. I told her "he can't hurt me anymore. it doesn't matter. it doesn't hurt anymore. it used to and i needed you and you didn't do anything. but it doesn't hurt now." And she stood there, dressed in red (which she never wears), looking exceptionally young, and with a bewildered look on her face.
The whole time in the dream i wasn't upset or angry or disappointed. It was like i was standing above it all and couldn't be affected by it anymore. I know i'm still far from that but it's inspiring to see that my mind is working at it and that there can be another side to all of this. The recovery from the disaster. It upsets me now to read this and think of it as me and something that i think about and still deal with. It's something that defines me. It upsets me like watching a sad story about someone who has to break a tie with something she had hope for but instead was stuck with the mucky reality.
A crazy storm last night here in Phoenix—the first time I can say i was honestly scared about a window breaking or a tree falling on the roof. We got lucky. I woke up to find this right outside our window. Winds at almost 80MPH, hail, almost 2 inches of rain. I wondered what it must be like to be caught in the desert in the middle of something like that. It seems frightening here but mostly because of all the stuff we've grown and constructed around us.
