Category: dream journal

kedim xiv: the long haul

From May to July, things get a little rough around here.

If you have read The Unapologetic INKDOG for any length of time, it has probably already become evident that I have a significant number of demons.  They’re always present, but this is kind of the season for them, so it’s probably fitting that I woke up today from another nightmare about my parents.  I have them fairly frequently and I rarely write about them.  For awhile I thought maybe it would be a good idea to keep track of them, but then I have to scroll back through them and see them.

So…I’m not going to write about the one I had today.  I’m just going to throw out into the void that I’m having a hard time and I’m grateful for my therapist.

On the bright side, I’m also just about halfway through KEDIM and even though I’ve done things a little out of order, I’m still on track.  If by May 31st I can say that I have written or created thirty-one things, I will consider this month a win.  I mean, it’s already pretty much a win.  I started making ASMR videos again, which I haven’t felt confident about doing since October 2015 when I got sick.  I finished poems I didn’t think I’d ever finish and started a few scrappy ones that have good enough bones to salvage and repurpose.  If I can keep up the habit of writing every day, maybe I’ll manage to finish something one day!  That’s the goal, anyway.

I’ve been lagging behind on studying Korean, though.  If I put two to three hours of study time in every day for the rest of the month I will still have 30+ hours of study under my belt by June.  I’ll try to focus on doing that instead of feeling bad about the time I missed.

Lastly, it is Mother’s Day.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you, whether you are the mother of a “traditional” family; a single father working double duty; a mother of children fluffy, feathered, scaled, or tailed; a sibling who has had to step up and assume such a role; a foster mother of people or animals, helping your babies get healthy and happy and preparing for the heartbreak of letting them go; a mother in the workplace who remembers to take care of your coworkers; and all of those who have assumed similar roles to make the world a happier, safer place. Happy Mother’s Day to the new mothers; happy Mother’s Day to those who have tried or are still trying to conceive; happy Mother’s Day to the mothers-to-be. Happy Mother’s Day if you’ve lost your mother and are thinking of her especially on a day like today.

Happy Mother’s Day to everyone who has made the choice to remain childless and gets flak for it; you deserve exactly ZERO of that flak, because making that choice is a personal decision and you should have a wonderful day anyway.

guilty

I swear I must have some kind of PTSD.

I finally fell asleep maybe four or five hours ago and I just woke up from a really odd, disturbing dream where I was put on trial and nobody would tell me why.  I was trying to run away from my mother in an empty mall parking lot which meant there were very few places to hide.  She was chasing me down in a car and had some other person chasing me on foot from the side, so they sort of herded me into a corner and led me away. The idiot dream version of me just let it happen, which probably isn’t so different from the idiot real life version of me.  I didn’t protest or struggle; I just let myself be dragged away.  Dream KJ knew that she was just going through the motions; she was defeated before she even started running.

The policeman was clearly from Hawaii and possessed some Asian blood.  The moment I heard his telltale, lilting islander accent, I thought to myself, “Oh, at least I’ll have an ally in him.”  Yeah, not so much.  The stories my mother told, supplemented by a stranger who had never met me previously, must have been far too compelling.  Anything I said in response sounded frail and false — because the truth is that I’ve never felt completely blameless when it comes to the more traumatic events I’ve experienced.  I’ve made mistakes and said awful things; I’ve said “okay” when I probably should have said “no”; I’ve let things slide that I probably shouldn’t have let slide.  My mother, in stark contrast, played the martyred victim card, which meant she was blameless — innocent as freshly fallen snow.

In any case, I inevitably started to get frustrated, which only made matters worse.  I could see a crease in the officer’s brow that deepened every time I spoke — a tiny fissure of skepticism that grew with every weak word I stammered out.

My mother, of course, was crying.

I don’t know what the punishment was.  I don’t even know what I was guilty of.

All I do know is that I was actually innocent that time — and I knew before the interrogation even started that I would be found guilty anyway.

I had the best intentions about today.  I was going to get some writing done, apply for registration at an event I’m interested in attending, and spend some time relaxing before the last few days of my grueling work week [followed immediately by a trip to New Jersey to visit in-laws I haven’t seen for years, followed immediately by another grueling work week].  Instead, the panic attack I woke up with induced an asthma attack because my mild cat allergy has turned into a severe one and my fluffy children are now able to literally kill me with their cuteness.

I need to come down from this cycle before it takes over my whole day.

Writing helps center me — it always has.

It’s been two hours since I wrote that and I already feel a little bit stronger.  To prove that strength to myself, I’ve decided to post this here.  [I also don’t get a lot of traction on The Unapologetic INKDOG, so I don’t really have to worry about who reads it.]  Recording my dreams is something I’ve always done — provided the dreams are strange or torturous enough to remember vividly — so I’ve decided to make a category specifically for the weird workings of my slumbering mind.