Dreaming as Catharsis
It has been a rather rough week. First, the work load at my job has been overwhelming. Then there was the bullying incident. Yesterday I found out that a few poorly chosen words in a letter I sent to my dad have upset his lady friend. I apologized to her and tried to make amends, but I'm afraid damage has been done. Ten minutes later I learned from my brother that Dad's moments of mental clarity are becoming fewer and fewer. Dad has been asking for his chainsaw and my brother has been finding excuses not to give it to him, because we're all worried for his safety. Yesterday when my brother went to see him, Dad stood there, stomping one foot and threatening to call the police and have Gary charged with theft. Then he was going to go out and buy a new chainsaw and "there wasn't a God-damn thing any of us could do to stop him." (Note: someone once said that when I get really angry I stomp one foot: guess I get that from my dad.)
A few minutes after I ended my conversation with Gary, I got a call from Jamie, who was babysitting. He said he didn't feel well and could I come pick him up. When I got there he was in so much pain he could hardly talk. He complained about severe pain in both thighs. He was shaking and had a fever. After arranging for another babysitter, I said I was going to take him to the hospital. He loudly resisted, and said between clenched teeth, "Why don't you ever listen to me? Why does it always have to be your way??" That made me stop short. Is that how I am? I backed off and said I'd take him home, but that if the pain was still as bad in an hour he had to agree to go to the hospital without argument. He agreed.
Last evening the pain eased, although his temperature shot up. It was between 102 and 103: not dangerously high but high enough to keep monitoring him throughout the night. Now it seems to be back to normal.
In between checking on him, I did sleep. And while I slept, I dreampt. All sorts of things. For instance, I agreed to marry a man I hardly knew and immediately regretted saying yes. He had dried food around his mouth which I found both disgusting and fascinating, and I kept trying to wipe it off. In another dream, I was once again a CBC reporter. My boss was ordering me to cover a story about government corruption, but he was also ordering me to cover a story that I myself had been a part of. Apparently I had been the cause of a school bus accident where a number of children were killed. Now he was asking me to cover it??
At that point in my dream, I broke down. I started throwing plastic bowls against the wall. And then I started to cry. I cried and cried and cried: the kind of crying that makes you feel like your insides are being wrenched out of you and that leaves you in a heap on the floor. And when I woke up, I felt incredibly calm and at peace.
But the question remains: Do I always have to have things my own way? I will meditate on that at yoga this morning.
7:01:58 AM 
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