nightmare – or not?

I have very involved and detailed dreams. It seems to be the primary way that my brain works through whatever emotional problems I’m currently dealing with – which results in a lot of nightmares. The one I had last night was interesting. I dreamed that I was back at my parents’ house, and I had no clue why I was there. I went up to the bathroom to shower – I was all sweaty from dance class. My brother was up there in a bathrobe – he was determined to shower too. However, we were thwarted by the fact that the bathroom was flooding. And when I say flooding, I mean flooding – soon we were swimming (at least it was clear water and not sewer water). There was something about a cat too, but I think that was just holdover from my bath the night before when my cat was pacing around the edge of the tub and I was sure she was going to fall in. Anyway, we were having fun with the swimming, but it wasn’t helping us to shower (and apparently not getting us clean, even though we were all wet), so I went to tell Mom about it. My brother was all “I’m going to shower NOW, dammit, so it needs to be fixed!” – I planned to change the message slightly.

As I was heading downstairs (which took a long period of time, in this dream), Dad got home – and the two of them got into a blazing row. So I waited, lurking out of sight, until they finally stopped screaming. I went into the dining room – they were both in there, glaring with folded arms and such, but at least the words had quit flying. I noticed that the table was set for dinner. I told them about the flooded bathroom (I was quite dry, oddly enough) and that Rich and I both wanted to shower. Mom just about went insane, screaming about how she’d slaved over this meal and we were so ungrateful, insisting on letting it go to waste while we showered – I kept trying to get a word in edgewise, telling her that we would be happy to eat before showering (I did NOT relay the message the way my brother delivered it) and that we just thought that she should KNOW about the flood – but it took forever to even remotely get a word in edgewise and of course I was getting directly attacked and screamed at the whole time. I finally got her calmed down and went to call Rich down for dinner – and I admit, I took my frustration out on him. He was in his room (which was a cupboard? probably related to having watched The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe the night before) with a girl, and I was like “Dinner is NOW, I don’t even want to HEAR about your shower, you can shower afterward, Mom is LOSING HER SHIT, and so you need to get OVER YOURSELF and come eat!”. I was a total bitch, but I knew that he was going to have a spazz about his shower otherwise.

So we went down to eat – he was still in his bathrobe, which earned me more glaring from Mom, yay – and then a whole other issue came up. Even in my dream, I was dealing with the eating disorder apparently, because I was taking insanely tiny portions (my meat was the size of a marble, my “salad” was one leaf of lettuce – and a little one, like a leaf of spinach – etc), and of course that triggered a whole other fight. Half of me was afraid that Mom would figure out just why I was eating so little (being a therapist, and all), while half of me actually *wanted* her to figure it out because at least then we might talk about something real… Or not. She did understand, in a flash, that I was eating so little because of anorexia and thus began another full-on screaming fight – and I was so disgusted with the whole thing, about the fact that I was there and that nothing had changed and that the fighting was more important than any of the actual issues. And I got up and left.

Where I went… wasn’t clear. It was just someplace that was *not there*. It was dark. I was feeling so alone and lost and miserable, along with the overwhelm from the ED and everything -and then Jessica turned up out of nowhere. She didn’t say a word – she just looked at me and opened her arms. IRL she’s about the same height as me, but in my dream she was closer to Diana’s height – so that when she held me, my head was tucked in against her chest, right over her heart. What happened, what was going on – none of it even mattered, just that she was there, she saw I was in pain, and she moved to ease it.

At which point, Sabrina (aka “the little slut” until she gets spayed!) woke me up with her yowling. I was about ready to throttle her, for two different reasons. Of course because it was the middle of the night and I was tired and wanted to sleep – but mostly because I wanted to get back to that feeling of safety. I usually come out of these types of dreams feeling scared, stressed, helpless, and angry – instead this time I felt safe and loved and supported – and it felt wonderful.


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