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Dreaming and Essence
Dec. 3rd, 2001 01:03 pmSera was a big help and comfort today as we gathered some of my winter clothes and brought them over here. Though we had little time together before she left for work, I again felt the sensation of warmth.
Oh yes, I hope and pray I will again meet Corinne, whom Sera and I encountered both in the library and by the bus stop today. A lovely nanny with little black braids and wire-rimmed glasses who asked my name and talked with us a while. Sera speculates Corinne was interested in me, as I was in her ... ::sighs wistfully::
-------------------
Below was to be posted 12-01-01
Such passion, such determination, yet sometimes I feel so numb.
Recent dream (upon waking 11-30-01):
I spoke French, a teacher with blonde hair who had just moved into a cheap motel. One of my contacts brought me a man in need of help; his son ailed or did not meet his usual standard of “himself.” After a time, they convinced me to see the young boy.
He played in strange ways: winding himself up along the wall by twisting into a very large piece of smooth, red cloth, or would dive into feather-light balls and balloons wrapped inside a ring of this cloth. It took little time for me to help the boy, despite an initial confusion, though now I do not comprehend what help I gave, nor to what end (even less could I put it into words).
I know to many I appeared attractive, yet I had little interest in those who approached me as I stood out in a large parking lot. The building to which the lot belonged held a great gathering of people – a social event such as a concert or convention to which I briefly attended.
I finished my conversation with the father of the boy, and declined his advances, then proceeded to return to the building. The even winded down and I found myself amidst a dying party’s clutter. Balloons, streamers, and old plastic cups littered the floor. Seating myself at a folding circular table, I sipped at a drink I recently poured. Those people still in the main room/gallery watched a film on a very large screen that pertained to the gathering itself and held secrets of deep spirituality and the hidden meanings of life.
Someone sat to my right, as I had turned my back, and the chair with it, to the table to better view the film. It took a moment for me to notice this new addition to my table, but I finally turned to see my mother in a chair, leaning on the table almost as if she reclined on a dais on her side.
In my hands, I had unknowingly gathered a few of my favorite, though tight, clothes – a slip, a dress, maybe a short skirt as well. The actual items did not matter so much as their meaning. They were crumpled in my hand, held in a tight ball, and yet some material had burst out over the sides and hung limp around my hand.
I sat casually holding these clothes in one hand, my drink in the other, and turned slightly to focus my attention on my new companion – my mother. She explained in a melancholic tone that she had reached a turning point – a point of no return, and she had to make a decision. She wanted to remain large and maintain her abundance of flesh, but if she chose that she could never go back. The other choice was to lose the weight, yet gain other things.
I watched as she gave a sad glance at the clothing in my hand. She motioned to it and said, “at least I will be able to wear those again.” She had made her decision.
It took time for me to understand this dream’s meaning, but after I realized the mother in my dream stood as a representation of that part of myself as I see as her, or rather influenced by here (perhaps even “hers”), the meaning became clear. First though, I must explain I have always seen myself as half my mother and half my father – each is a complete opposite of the other. When I am with one, that is the parent whom people say I resemble. Add to that a childhood in which, growing up, I was mistaken for my mother’s sister many times, the odd occurrence of (since puberty) always being almost exactly half my mother’s weight. When she gains, I gain, when I lose, she will tell me she too has lost. Even when we live so far away as we do now (she in Germany, I, in the U.S.), she tells me of her fluctuations when I thought I had broken away from that particular connection.
My feelings of low self-worth led me to believe I could never be more than half my mother, never live up to her greatness – it’s only in the last two years I’ve been able to acknowledge that feeling (thanks, Sera!). I was shocked to discover once that I got higher scores on a particular (unofficial) I.Q. test than she. Literally stunned. My mother finds it difficult to live up to her father and his accomplishments and I’m worried about not even matching hers. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the daughter trying to live up to the daughter of a famous writer? Ugh! I should not whine so... She’s striving to live up to a man who passed over two decades ago, and I turn myself into a nervous wreck trailing behind her. (Chronic Anxiety Disorder, anyone? I will not take Paxil, either!)
So, to finally get to my long-winded point: this dream represented the part of me associated with my mother, and this part of me decided it was going to be less my mother, and more me, so that one day I will be completely “me” with my loving mother only that – a powerful influence in the shaping of me, but not me. A nice healthy dream for a change – as for the other half of me representing my father ... well, things are a *bit* unresolved right now. Here I am, running after my goals, and he’s back there shouting, “you missed the off-ramp!” (You know, the one I had no intention of taking?)
Dream from 11-28-01:
The only things I remember were the elaborate examples of architecture and the high ceilings. Underneath one of these ceilings which struck awe in me, my guide in the dream explained not only were high ceilings aesthetically and practical for many functions, but they were requisite for something very spiritually important – though sadly, I no longer recall what that great importance is, I am only left with imprint of this importance ... and the ceilings.
Untitled, written 11-30-01:
I live in the Light, and though
I may falter along my path, shadows
Passing briefly over me,
It is in the Light I ultimately remain,
Grateful for my blessings of divine grace.
Gosh, with a statement (above) like that, you’d think I was a Christian.
Oh yes, I hope and pray I will again meet Corinne, whom Sera and I encountered both in the library and by the bus stop today. A lovely nanny with little black braids and wire-rimmed glasses who asked my name and talked with us a while. Sera speculates Corinne was interested in me, as I was in her ... ::sighs wistfully::
-------------------
Below was to be posted 12-01-01
Such passion, such determination, yet sometimes I feel so numb.
Recent dream (upon waking 11-30-01):
I spoke French, a teacher with blonde hair who had just moved into a cheap motel. One of my contacts brought me a man in need of help; his son ailed or did not meet his usual standard of “himself.” After a time, they convinced me to see the young boy.
He played in strange ways: winding himself up along the wall by twisting into a very large piece of smooth, red cloth, or would dive into feather-light balls and balloons wrapped inside a ring of this cloth. It took little time for me to help the boy, despite an initial confusion, though now I do not comprehend what help I gave, nor to what end (even less could I put it into words).
I know to many I appeared attractive, yet I had little interest in those who approached me as I stood out in a large parking lot. The building to which the lot belonged held a great gathering of people – a social event such as a concert or convention to which I briefly attended.
I finished my conversation with the father of the boy, and declined his advances, then proceeded to return to the building. The even winded down and I found myself amidst a dying party’s clutter. Balloons, streamers, and old plastic cups littered the floor. Seating myself at a folding circular table, I sipped at a drink I recently poured. Those people still in the main room/gallery watched a film on a very large screen that pertained to the gathering itself and held secrets of deep spirituality and the hidden meanings of life.
Someone sat to my right, as I had turned my back, and the chair with it, to the table to better view the film. It took a moment for me to notice this new addition to my table, but I finally turned to see my mother in a chair, leaning on the table almost as if she reclined on a dais on her side.
In my hands, I had unknowingly gathered a few of my favorite, though tight, clothes – a slip, a dress, maybe a short skirt as well. The actual items did not matter so much as their meaning. They were crumpled in my hand, held in a tight ball, and yet some material had burst out over the sides and hung limp around my hand.
I sat casually holding these clothes in one hand, my drink in the other, and turned slightly to focus my attention on my new companion – my mother. She explained in a melancholic tone that she had reached a turning point – a point of no return, and she had to make a decision. She wanted to remain large and maintain her abundance of flesh, but if she chose that she could never go back. The other choice was to lose the weight, yet gain other things.
I watched as she gave a sad glance at the clothing in my hand. She motioned to it and said, “at least I will be able to wear those again.” She had made her decision.
It took time for me to understand this dream’s meaning, but after I realized the mother in my dream stood as a representation of that part of myself as I see as her, or rather influenced by here (perhaps even “hers”), the meaning became clear. First though, I must explain I have always seen myself as half my mother and half my father – each is a complete opposite of the other. When I am with one, that is the parent whom people say I resemble. Add to that a childhood in which, growing up, I was mistaken for my mother’s sister many times, the odd occurrence of (since puberty) always being almost exactly half my mother’s weight. When she gains, I gain, when I lose, she will tell me she too has lost. Even when we live so far away as we do now (she in Germany, I, in the U.S.), she tells me of her fluctuations when I thought I had broken away from that particular connection.
My feelings of low self-worth led me to believe I could never be more than half my mother, never live up to her greatness – it’s only in the last two years I’ve been able to acknowledge that feeling (thanks, Sera!). I was shocked to discover once that I got higher scores on a particular (unofficial) I.Q. test than she. Literally stunned. My mother finds it difficult to live up to her father and his accomplishments and I’m worried about not even matching hers. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the daughter trying to live up to the daughter of a famous writer? Ugh! I should not whine so... She’s striving to live up to a man who passed over two decades ago, and I turn myself into a nervous wreck trailing behind her. (Chronic Anxiety Disorder, anyone? I will not take Paxil, either!)
So, to finally get to my long-winded point: this dream represented the part of me associated with my mother, and this part of me decided it was going to be less my mother, and more me, so that one day I will be completely “me” with my loving mother only that – a powerful influence in the shaping of me, but not me. A nice healthy dream for a change – as for the other half of me representing my father ... well, things are a *bit* unresolved right now. Here I am, running after my goals, and he’s back there shouting, “you missed the off-ramp!” (You know, the one I had no intention of taking?)
Dream from 11-28-01:
The only things I remember were the elaborate examples of architecture and the high ceilings. Underneath one of these ceilings which struck awe in me, my guide in the dream explained not only were high ceilings aesthetically and practical for many functions, but they were requisite for something very spiritually important – though sadly, I no longer recall what that great importance is, I am only left with imprint of this importance ... and the ceilings.
Untitled, written 11-30-01:
I live in the Light, and though
I may falter along my path, shadows
Passing briefly over me,
It is in the Light I ultimately remain,
Grateful for my blessings of divine grace.
Gosh, with a statement (above) like that, you’d think I was a Christian.
