Early this morning I woke up ending a dream that brought strong feelings of frustrations and also deep deep sadness. Frustrations because the dream had reminded me of how my mother had been twisted and manipulated, by a deceitful disease, into playing a very sick game with the people who mattered the most to her, that includes her children.

Sadness because I had no control as a child and I still today, have no control as an adult in having any form of relationship with this women who gave birth to me and who had to abandon me a number of time just so that my father would not kill himself.

Coming back to the dream, I have never been able to write down any of my vivid dreams so far, and it is quite common for me to have dreams that seems like I am having a life parallel to the one I am curently conscious of right now. This dream felt so real just like the one I had about my grand mother 2 years ago. As if there was no other way except for a vision to come to me at night  preparing me in letting my grand mother  go, and letting me know that her life as I have known it so far was coming to its end. The dream last night about my mother, seemed to have revealed so many locked up informations inside of me and denied emotions and needs that I have not been able to admit to myself so far.

As I am writing right now I can’t clearly remember how the dream begun, pictures, emotions, actions are being felt and are jumping all over the place in my awareness. All mixed up, as if I am watching all of these elements, becoming ingredients being processed into a smoothie, spinning around my head so fast I can not catch one emotion and stay with it for a moment and describe how I am experiencing it. I would like to slow the process down. I wish I was able to look back and dissect clearly each precious moments delivered as images in slow and organized motions but I can’t. I close my eyes for a few seconds, setting an intention to focus on remembering. Same again, scattered pictures flash back into my mind so fast, however  these pictures are still not telling me how the dream started and the real meaning behind it.  So perhaps I will start in describing just these fast flash back and see where I go with those. I am hoping that the split second of the movie replaying in my mind will open a door to what this dream is really trying to tell me.

The first flash I am looking at and able to see clearly shows me the face of my mother in a laying down position, in a coffin that looked like a bed or a bed looking like a coffin, that part was a little confusing. Even though she is dead what I am seeing is very much alive and it is animated by what seems to me a powerful force of unconditional and endless love I have for her, as if somewhere still lingering, there was life in what ever my eyes were scanning simply because I am still alive and the essence of the connection with my mother is also still alive and activated by this aliveness. I did not want to end the dream because in that moment I had forgotten that the dream was only a manifestation of this so pure and powerfull river flow of life that connected us. I felt like I finally had an opportunity to have her back in my life even if she was dead and I did not want to let her go.

Here were the emotions and  I experienced the strongest dragging on into  This dream lasted quite some time it seemed like a never ending movie, and I was able to control it s length for a while. I also felt at the back of my mind a frustrating urge from my internal alarm clock telling me it was time to wake up and rap it up “you have 2 minute and 34 sec to end your dream before the usual every day process of waking up begins. I did not want to let any form of her go, not yet. As I continued visiting this moment, as I went on giving life to me and her together, I felt a very loving and warm feeling of being reunited with a presence, an energy I had experienced once with her. Perhaps a special bound once upon a time when my mother had one revealed moment of sanity and remember how much I mattered to her and was able to show and communicate how precious we were to each other.

Moving along, for a nano second I glimpsed at a picture of my dad sitting down looking so foolish full of remorse and shame. All the power and control he had over my mother had been burned with her body. He had no one he could manipulate and play his sick games with anymore. All exposed to himself and everyone else, for the first time in a very long time,  probably before he met my mother this man was disarmed, the weapon he used to remain sick had been taken away from his little boy’s hands.  I was contemplating with a sense of relief, at the idea that, dead, my mother was no longer the something my father posessed to himself only. He had finally lost all the control he had over her, to get her to deprive herself from connecting with all her loved ones. Death toke that away from him and death took the way he used her to stay dead in his alive body.  which resulted to the fact that she was once again my mother. When I say my mother I mean that special unconditional love a mother and a daughter experience for one another. That energy seemed locked up in a very dark place that my father guarded for it not to flow and to find me and my brother. I can’t believe that death was the only way I could have her back. I am continuing scanning at her, her body is covered and her neck is ashes. This reveals that she had been cremated and for some reasons her face was the part of her body that remained intact unburned. I was able to tell the lady who was standing next to me, dressed like a doctor, making notes of my every moves, “yes  it s my mother”. I was surprised and confused to see her look so young. I recognize the very pretty face I remembered of her as a child, so beautiful. The last I saw of her was a picture taken 10 years ago and she had aged quite a bit. I looked and held on to every features I could recognized. Death had stolen the color on her face and the beautiful shape of her lips. I stared at her forehead and moved upward to notice that she was wearing a wig, I examined her hair which looked nothing like the beautiful long thick curly and full hear she use to hate and straighten with the iron on an iron board.

Staring at something in her that wasn’t her, I asked the lady next to me who was accompanying me in the process of saying goodbye. This is a wig right? These are not her real hear, I said disappointed to witness  an other part of her that had gone, did her hear burn I asked? The lady said “yes”the hair is the first part that gets consumed by the fire she said. So I guessed that, who ever toke care of the body after cremation tried her best to reconstitute a picture of my mother so that I could recognize her I thought. I anderstand now that my eyes looking at her was what kept her alive and I was holding on to that dream a lot longer than I usually do with other dreams I have. I didn’t want to let her go.

She looked peaceful, rested, happy to be gone, no longer a prisoner in a body and in a dimension she often described as unjust, bitter and cruel, sad and lonely. Suddenly words my father had pronounced rushed in my mind. As he and my mother were saying goodbye to my 16 years old sister, resting in her coffin many years back, the only words my father ever spoke about my sister, to my brother and I  were “she finally looked so peacefull like I have never seen her before”. In that moment my father shared the sad and terrifying way he looked at life, his view and his philosophy he passed on to me. As I was becoming the adult I thought would free me from from my dad he unconsciously ruined that freedom as he locked me up into a new way sick way of seeing life. I spent most my adult life undoing and correcting this false, destructive belief. As my life that day would be equipped with a new formed belief, that life is suffering and death peace, 6 month later I was equipped with an other destructive belief this time taught by my mother that the way to escape the suffering of this life was to attempt suicide.

Looking back now I can see that my mother’s life as an adult was a slow process of death programmed in breaking everyone’s heart taking  around her in that process and now seeing her gone in my dream shatered any possible way to save one moment with her and tell her that I am not upset and mad at her.

Dear mother. All the secrets of your shameful existence you kept to yourself. All these hidden words describing your protected agony you were so ashamed of. These words of suffering you never pronounced to a soul, how naive of you mother, to think I would not read them, hear them, feel them, experience your suffering and relive it in my own way. I get this weakness in letting a destructive force within, take over a life. Watching this happen like a victim of what you called a broken society. I get the pain and the lonelyness that paint a very selfish and bitter world, with children in it deprive from feeling and living their own experience. I get that no one could experience what you experienced that the pain you shared and spilled on everyone, even the ppl who didn’t know you and heard of you, that pain was too precious for you to let it go. That pain made you uniq and special. It gave you the right to firmly believe that the way you lived your life was totally justified. Today I continue feeling for you and sending you hopeful thoughts that one day a spark awaken your spirit so you can free yourself from those chains made out of guilt and shame.  You most probably felt responsible in some level for the death of my sister and punished yourself and your children in depriving any form of happiness and flow of life for yourself as well as your other 2 children and 3 grand children.

You were able to use my dad to keep yourself in an isolated state he had trapped himself you as well as me at some point. That s why you are not my dad s victim at all even though it could be seen this way. You both feed in each other even today still this need to control and destroy a broken reality you have imagined.

I can continue and scan more parts of this dream but I choose to use an other chapter as the other part of the dream has my husband in it.