I’m crossing the street. Trying to cross the street. The other side seems so far away. I look behind me. They are coming. Coming for me. I need to get away, need to flee. I look at the other side of the street and it still seems so far away. If only I can reach the pavement, I will be save. But, I’m stuck. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get my legs to move. I feel helpless. Trapped. Panicked. I need to get away. Once more I look over my shoulder, see them closing in. I manage to drag one foot in front of the other. Then another. Still, even though I feel like I am moving forward, the other side of the street seems as far away as ever.
The above is a recurring dream I have had throughout my life. Mostly it happens in times when I am troubled, when something happened that shook my foundations. It happened as a child when there was conflict between my parents, and I hid somewhere in a dark corner, listening to them (actually mainly my father) screaming at each other, hoping they would forget about my existence. Mainly I was afraid my father would see and come for me. And when he did, he would certainly find something I have done ‘wrong’ and punish me for it, telling me that it’s my fault he had to do it.
Feeling guilty for things even when I shouldn’t, is part of my life, and when I go into those periods, this dream keeps on popping up. When I wake from it, my heart is racing, and I feel like I am hiding in that dark corner again, afraid to be seen.
In the past couple of months that has changed. I don’t dream about her every night, not even every week, but I still remember the first dream I had where I saw her face.
I am walking down a corridor, following two women. One is my grandmother, and where the other looks familiar, I haven’t seen her face just yet. She keeps it hidden, but her hair… I know it. I’m drawn to it. Want to touch it. Love it. We pass through a door, into a kitchen. Everything is white. Light. My grandmother says something, but I don’t really hear what. My eyes are on the other woman, willing her to turn around. My grandmother speaks once more, and then the woman turns around. Mom! It’s my mom! I just look at her. Cannot move. She’s so beautiful. So young. She stretches out her arms, and I nestle close. She hugs me tight, and whispers in my hair: “I have missed you so much.”
The night I dreamed that, I woke up sobbing. Just writing the above has me in tears all over again. I dreamed about my mom once or twice again after that, and each time I saw her face. Each time I woke up with tears in my eyes. With intense sadness. But there was something else too. Hope. I think I am healing. I think my sadness was too intense before to be able to see my mom’s face, and she knew that, which is why she didn’t reveal herself to me. She knows I am stronger now, or she knows I need her like I always needed her in bad times, and that is why she’s there. Why she shows herself. Why she hugged me and told me how she misses me. Doing that, she passes her strength on to me. Even though she’s not physically with me anymore, I am still leaning on her. And at the same time, I am standing on my own two feet, being as strong as my mom always was. Still, I just wish she could give me some advice in my dreams, although deep down I know what she would’ve said.
But I keep on dreaming, and hoping.
Image by Orange Fox
© Rebel’s Notes