Sunday, August 23rd, 2009Reading time: 5 – 8 minutes
I had a bad dream about my mom last night. Some of you know that history, but for those of you who don’t, let’s just say it wasn’t the nicest of childhoods, and that the easily-spouted “Mothers always love their children” is just really far from true. I know people like to uphold that mythology, and that’s one of the reasons I endured as much as I did as a child; no one wanted to believe a mother could treat a child like that.
Now, in the 21st Century, we know better, but we cling to that iconic imagery, which is nice. We don’t have to let that go. But we don’t have to ignore the suffering of children just to protect that imagery, thank goodness.
Anyway, this dream was a reunion with my mom after all of these years of deafening silence, save for the peripheral whispers I hear from some family members that she’s asked about me. Even as I was lying in my death bed a couple of years ago, she couldn’t gather the courage and love to reach out. So this dream was pretty profound to have out of nowhere.
THE DREAM:
Apparently, in the process of setting up this reunion in the dream, she had been asking about my work with the channeling and the Michael Teachings and wanted to know if I’d share all of that with her. So… my god, you can imagine. I was elated! To not only have this possibility of reunion, but also to have any kind of interest in my life… whoa.
I gathered up an armful of books and some paperwork to share with her, and I made my way to this reunion.
The address was some house; a Bed and Breakfast type situation. I entered and went to the room where we were to meet, which was open, and I sat on the edge of a bed.
I waited. And waited. I thumbed through my books nervously, and my cautious excitement about a reunion began to fade into anxious worry. After an hour of waiting, I got up and left the room to see if I could find out if she had called someone, left a message,… something.
I went downstairs to find the host of the house intending to ask if she had heard anything, and was greeted with a huge grin, soft eyes as she walked toward me with anticipation, “Well,… so how is it going? Is everything okay?” I replied with some confusion, “Actually, she hasn’t shown up, yet. I was wondering if you’ve heard from her?” The woman retracted her smile and offered concern, instead, saying, “Honey, she was here before you were. She was waiting for you in the room. She even brought lunch!” I explained that I’d been sitting up there for over an hour with no one.
We climbed the stairs back to the room.
As I neared the room, I noticed the door was ajar, which I had closed, and as I opened the door, the breeze from a now-open window was catching bits of paper, swirling them about the room. The bed was littered with the pages of my books, torn up, and my notebooks pulled apart. The closet door was now open, too, and on the floor of the closet were wrappers from an eaten lunch.
She had been sitting in the closet the entire time, waiting for me to leave the room so she could destroy the materials she had asked for me to bring. Apparently, at some point after I left the room to see if she had called, she had poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear, destroyed my work, and then climbed out the window onto to the roof, down a trellis to the ground.
I just sat on the edge of the bed, resigned. And I wondered why do I always think “this time, it will be different.” It never is. Not even in waking life.
END OF DREAM
Anyway, for this to come roiling up from my subconscious after so many years is an interesting thing for me to ponder. I think it’s because I am at a cross-roads of my future and past, right now. Either my past is going to destroy my future, or I am going to release the past to its place of rest so that I can move on. The thing is, I always think I have moved on, but if you have ever experienced any kind of life-altering, devastating wounding, you know how insidious and persistent that infection can be. I don’t really know if we ever truly “move on” from that.
This song came up randomly today and the dream came rushing back in. It’s not completely relevant, but a couple of lines hit home, capturing that abandonment of that only source of security and safety in the world you have as a child, which I think has a profound, long-term effect on the life after that, no matter how healed you may become. It’s like losing your legs. You can find so many ways to heal and get around later in life, but the fact remains: you still lost your legs.
I lost my mom. I should never have expected I would “get over” that. I probably never will. And that’s what’s okay. I can still manage to get around, and I do… quite well.
So this song goes out to all of my friends, and the parts of my family who kept The Runt, and doesn’t think he’s scum…
THE RUNT by Chris Garneau
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You don’t see this every day
Lions close their cat eyes too
They sleep the same as lovers do
I don’t know how I got here
But I know where I have to go
But I know where I have to go
Raccoon babes get left behind
Sometimes the runt’s too small
For moms to care a little bit
For moms to care at all
For moms to care at all
But you, you kept the runt
You don’t think he’s scum
You’re worried in the morning
You’re worried in the afternoon
And you’re worried in the nighttime too
His little dirty feet stink bad
The popcorn smell makes your nose sad
I don’t know how he got here
But I’m scared he’ll wind up dead
But I’m scared he’ll wind up dead
Lions close their cat eyes too
They sleep the same as lovers do
I don’t know how I got here
But I know where I have to go
But I know where I have to go
You kept the runt
You don’t think he’s scum
He’s wasted in the morning
He’s wasted in the afternoon
And he’s wasted in the nighttime too
You kept the runt
You don’t think he’s scum
He’s wasted in the morning
He’s wasted in the afternoon
And he’s wasted in the nighttime too
You don’t see this every day
THE RUNT
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I lost my dad… and as a result lost my brother, SIL and Mom in the process. I love my dad, but I’ll never be who he needed as a daughter. ((hugs))
It’s funny how, without even realizing it, our quiet pain resonates out to find those who can empathize. I’m glad to know you, my fellow runt. You really are loved.
This just kills me. Every time this topic (of your mom) comes up, it just kills me over again. And that picture of the three of you just puts it over the top. This was a very sad post, but very real and honest. Thank you for sharing it, sir. You are, indeed, loved.
Awww, it was just a dream, and it’s good to get all of that out of the subconscious! Thanks, my love.
I have no words. Every time this topic comes up I either get so mad I want to bash her face in with a shovel or I am just so sad I cry. This gave me both, first the face bash then the crying. I love you Sir!! That is all there is……….
Thanks for the love and the want to protect me. All of this is a thing of the past, but it sneaks up sometimes, that’s all. xoox
Killed me too. I don’t know the history, but the sneaky viciousness of what she did in the dream – wow. Just wow.
Troy, you are loved. Know it. And you are needed!! Wish I could give you a hug, a shoulder, and a cocktail, not necessarily in that order….
Martha, oh good lord, the dream was TAME compared to real life. The things that happened… well, they are the makings of a good novel or movie, or both! And I intend to do just that with it! I’ve used my mom and many of the incidents from childhood as a model for a character and events in my fiction novel I’m writing! Woo Hoo! I’ll make something good of it.
Just remember, NO WIRE HANGARS!!
And I see the 2s are out in force to rush to your defense
I have a personal dislike for just saying what has already been said, but I think you might appreciate hearing that I too am upset at the thought of someone causing you harm, and I too wish good things for you.
XOXO
=Jonah
It’s okay if you repeat nice things. Thanks for always being such a sweetheart.
What does one say to what you’ve shared?
I’m sorry? I empathize? I know? Hang in there?
Suck up and deal with it? We all had horrible childhoods?
These replies/answers I heard and sometimes still do. None of them seem to matter or help. The only people who could possible empathize would be my siblings. Or possibly someone who grew up in the same kind of situation I did. Which is why maybe, just maybe,… I understand you and what you went through even though I’m very aware that I don’t know any of your specifics. My childhood pain memories can’t be hugged, cried or shouted away. Luckily they don’t haunt me. And as an adult, they’ve become more or less a scar as opposed to a wound.
I’m unclear, is your mother deceased or did she literally abandon your family?
I’m not one to give too much away about my childhood, but know you’re not alone.
ryan charisma chose to share this personal blog entry courtesy of CommentLuv ::: Beautiful People
We’ll talk. And she’s alive. I’ve just not seen her since 1986.
CocteauBoy chose to share this personal blog entry courtesy of CommentLuv ::: You Kept The Runt, You Don’t Think He’s Scum
After all these years, I still remember you talking about your mom.
Always remember that those who truly love you, will always love you – I know I do.
TEETSA!!! This is your second drive-by! God, I get so flustered and excited when you stop by! LOVE YOU. I’d love to catch up sometime soon! xoxo
CocteauBoy chose to share this personal blog entry courtesy of CommentLuv ::: You Kept The Runt, You Don’t Think He’s Scum
I have friends who lost their moms and they always get mad at me when I say anything with an heir of indifference about mine. I know this was a cathartic way to heal your soul, and your a big boy so I saw how many times you thanked com mentors and brushed it off as nothing more than a dream but – you made me cry and I know that this means more than that….
I am so sorry that you had to go through this, and while I know my apology wont even lick your wounds I want to tell you thank you for sharing this. Thank you for being so honest, and thank you for opening yourself up like this… You became this extraordinary person without the mom you truly deserved… and I am so glad you managed to do that.
XOXOXOXO (((hugs))) always
Irene, it is so nice to see you come by! It’s been too long!! And thank you for all those nice things you said. They mean a lot to me. A lot.
troy
It has been too long, I have been trolling your site from time to time trying to catch up and see what I have missed. I am sorry if I have not commented more often, just sometimes I feel like all I can offer is crayon scribble to some of the profound things you have said.
You are worth your weight in platinum – I sincerely hope you know that.
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Troy, See how it was a dream, change the end of it…get in a nice alpha state an have it play out how you want to play out. Your subconscious mind won’t care, it doesn’t tell the difference. Very healing! Your interpretation is excellent. Maybe the proverbial legs are cut off but it didn’t stop Lt. Dan from climbing a mast. Yes that is a movie but you get my point. Love, Marion