I was sitting and thinking about the last words my mom said to me. “Go away”, as I tried to reposition her frame in the prison of her bed. I loved it. Finally, she found her voice and said what she meant. My mom had always been the stoic one, the one who kept going no matter what, the one who made me wonder “really? – is that what you’re thinking?”
Yesterday, in therapy, I told D about some of the dreams I’ve been having. Again, vivid and a bit odd, but not scary. He then asks me if I had had “any mom dreams?” “No.” Of course, I started worrying that I would (should?) start having some. So far though, no dreams. What”s scary is…he planted that in my head under cover of a reasonable question. I swear I may strangle D if I start to dream (just kidding – maybe).