On dreaming

It's been haunting me all day today.

I had a dream that a boy - a man, I don't even know how to call him anymore as he's more of a man now, but was more of a boy back then - came to visit me in a place I was at. He was the way I know (of) him now - busy, a beautiful girl at his side, a self-reliant maverick - and when he left, I sobbed.

God, how hard I sobbed. It just kept on coming, and coming, and coming. I sobbed on the railing and sobbed on the stairs and sobbed when looking at him leave with his life ahead of him.

I sobbed for the life I'm not having, and for the life he's having without me in it. I felt so utterly... desperate in that dream, like a chance at a life had been drawn out from underneath me and there was no going back anymore. A done deal. Gone.

***

It's the parallels I live through in my dreams - I try on things I wouldn't otherwise.

Sometimes I wake up rested and grateful for the things I've experienced, feelings as if I've had a holiday and have gone off on little adventures. On a few occasions I've been able to do what they call, I think, lucid dreaming - I get to choose the dreams to have as, on those few occasions, I've happened to be aware of sleeping and understand that technically I can go do... whatever.

In those restful dreams I've gotten to skydive. I've gotten to be childless. Alone.

And then in other dreams by brain puts me through events I've let go of in real life, as if to remind me what's on the other side of my choices and to check that I do actually know what I'm doing.

I've had my mother die in those dreams, far and unexpectedly, without having had a chance to say, you're a pain, sometimes, mum, but you're also awesome. You're awesome more often than you are a pain.

;)

I've gone off with that boy - a man - on adventures, making passionate love in a tent, in a heap of sleeping bags.

I've left The Man and The Kid in my dreams sometimes. Sometimes I've been terminally ill. I've even died myself in those dreams.

I'm repeating myself here, but sometimes I feel grateful for the opportunities I get in my dreams and sometimes I wake up angry. I think, why do I have to live through these memories/experiences so vividly? Why do I have to be reminded of my choices like that? Why do I have to keep on re-evaluating my life? Can't I just, you know - be?

With a few exceptions of lucid dreaming, the topics that get thrown at me in my dreams come at what feels like a random selection. Rather than go to a therapist and say, okay, today I'd like to discuss my love life or, say, my hunger for skydiving, I end up in that dream-therapist's chair and get bombarded with whatever that therapist has come up with, whether I want to evaluate that part of my life - or not - and unlike a real therapist, my dream-therapist makes me live through these events. Not just watch on a screen or think about, but I live through the stuff in my dreams because in my dreams, I'm doing, and feeling, and smelling. I'm in the f*cking center of the thing.

And on those occasions I feel cheated.

Which is sort of ridiculous because it f*cking happens inside my own head. All of it.

Stupid neurons.

9 comments:

  1. Anonymous22.7.13

    it seems very much like you are living in your past... seems like you never got over the boyfriend from your past...if there is one recurring theme on your blog, it is the regret you have for making the choices you did, i.e. to get married and have a kid with your man now, rather than be with the man you secretly want to be.



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    1. There's more to moving on with life than getting over something.

      I made a choice: weighed up what was more important to me and then did the thing that was important. And the important thing was: my son.

      Am I happy, always, to be a mother? Hell no. Even now, I'm writing this here whilst The Kid has been having a series of cries because he doesn't want to be on my lap, but he doesn't want to be on the floor either; he doesn't want the food, but he doesn't want me to move away his plate either; and he definitely doesn't want to stay quiet, and my ears are ringing.

      But I think I'd be more unhappy NOT being a mother than I am BEING a mother.

      And I'd take away the word "secretly" from what you've written: I've never made a secret of why I wanted to go. And as to regrets: yes, I do sometimes regret the choices I've made, but then I remind myself WHY I made them and then it makes sense again.

      Because in the end, I wanted the life I have now more than I wanted the life I had back then, and that's what matters.

      But I've got a question for you: why comment anonymously?

      Delete
    2. I remembered something.

      Have you ever come across http://www.kellehampton.com/2013/03/when-river-is-too-high-i-choose-you.html ? She phrases it beautifully, that moment of choice or, in her case, more like the anticipation of choice.

      Whether she goes on to become a mother or continues to climb, either way she'll miss her previous life, I think. And that's alright.

      It's sort of the same here. Her article resonates deeply with me.

      Delete
  2. Anonymous22.7.13

    I stumbled on your blog by accident and me being a complete stranger, i was not sure how rude i must sound being so judgemental in my comment.

    but my intention was to be straight forward as to see how happy you are in fact, with the choices you have made.

    and you realising that you are less 'unhappy' being a mother says it all. Perhaps you have some regret on a blue day, but it seems you have in fact made the right choice.

    I wish you happier days with your son & family, and good luck with your health too.

    PS. thanks for the link, it's beautifully written.

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    1. If anything, I prefer straightforward comments, even if judgemental.

      But that doesn't answer my question which was: why comment anonymously?

      Delete
  3. Anonymous23.7.13

    Since you are curious about the anonymity - i will tell you, i am in a similar situation. Sadly, unlike you, i do not have the courage to write in public about how much i want to be with my ex, how much i miss him, or how i desire for him and dream about him. i simply can't, especially when i think about how my husband will feel about it if i did (my husband and i have privately discussed this many times though and he hates it)

    i do feel your husband is a fantastic man who really loves you and is very patient with you....he has to be, as it seems that your confusion is not so much about being a mother or not... but it's about whether you want to be with the ex more or with the husband more.

    about the 'secretly wanting' - what i meant is that you explicitly make it sound like you no longer want the ex, but reading in between the lines it's quite obvious that you still desire him. I think many of your blog posts refer to your past with him and many of your musings, regrets and thoughts also refer to the same person.

    my dilemma is similar and i commend you for your courage to express yourself so openly.

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    1. Something in your comment doesn't make sense, but I can't quite put my finger on what exactly.

      What I miss is adventures and frequent "That'd be a cool thing to do!" discussions I had with that boy. I miss going up hills and down rivers and being wet and cold and tired but feeling oh-so-alive. That's what I miss. I guess you could extrapolate from that that I miss the boy who goes on these adventures rather than The Man I now have a family with - but it's not the same thing.

      Reasons I love The Man are different from reasons I loved that boy. They are two different people.

      I guess what I'm struggling with here is that these loves are different in nature, not in size, and I'm uncomfortable with the idea of comparing them in size, i.e. who did I love more because I don't think I love either more - I love differently, and for different reasons.

      And you're right, The Man is fantastic. He's the sort of a man that when I think about him I get a little warm tingling in my chest. I really, really, really like him, as a person.

      So although I am a little uncomfortable talking about it, I keep on reminding myself that what I feel is alright - I loved a person deeply for the reasons that were important at the time and now I love another person for reasons that are important now - and rather than try and hide it away I try to be open about it and trust that The Man is wise enough to understand; because he is.

      And I've found that the best thing to get over something - as in, a problem - is to write about it online, because once it's out there there's no point worrying about it anymore because there's darn little I can do about it any more. So I might as well stop worrying.

      And because of that I write about stuff that's embarrassing. If I keep something a secret then I keep on carrying it around until it eventually gnaws me hollow and then to put it shortly, shit hits the fan; whereas, and as weird as it sounds, if I write about something publicly and let it go, I become free. The first few days might be a bit, uhm, unsure ("What will people think of me?") but after a while it's, like, it doesn't matter what they think because they'll think stuff anyway.

      Writing this here is a bit like cheating: I'm writing it publicly and I'm enjoying this back-and-forth discussion, but I also know that it's an old post that very few will visit or read comments to, so it's like letting go, but not quite.

      But at the same time, it is, because once I hit "Publish", it's gone. It's out there. And I cannot, realistically, delete something off Internet once I've published it.

      Wow I'm getting off topic here. I think I need to go drink a glass of water or something =P

      Delete
    2. Forgot to add to "What I miss is adventures and frequent "That'd be a cool thing to do!" discussions I had with that boy. I miss going up hills and down rivers and being wet and cold and tired but feeling oh-so-alive. That's what I miss." that:

      What I don't miss is feeling desperate for a family. As much as I miss the good bits, I sure as hell don't miss that feeling of desperation, for lack of a better word. If I wasn't missing I'd be resenting. You know what I mean?

      It's like stepping away at the right time. It's like... Yes, I miss the person I was with, but that was back in time when I was a different person.

      Geesh this is complicated to write about. Really, Maria, go have a glass of water or milk or something.

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    3. You know what? I'd like to call you by your name, but I don't know what your name is, so I'll call you Anonymous.

      Thank you, Anonymous, for writing, because it's made me think.

      I think I want to write about it, and not in the back section of my blog like that, but openly, on the front page. I've even got a title for it - Two Loves.

      I doubt it'll happen this week because of what else needs doing, but I feel like it's starting to build in me somewhere.

      Thank you for that.

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