I have wondered sometimes like many people if my dreams mean anything. Are they just a reenactment of my real daily activities? Are the nightmares a way to sort through my daily angst? My dreams do get worse when I am taking antidepressant medication, a common side effect, but not all the dreams I will write about were under the influence of any drug.
I want to write not only my current dreams, but also some repeaters I had when I was a kid. Maybe it will help me sort out some emotional things or maybe I will find out I am just fucked up.
DOPPELGANGER
One of the earliest dreams I remember having involves my mother(adoptive). It was a repeater and I clearly till this day remember it and still get a lump in my stomach thinking about it. I was around my daughters age, maybe younger, when I first dreamt it. In the dream I am lying in my bed under my soft pink and green flowery spread taking a nap. I have my rag doll Hollie Hobbie with me and I can feel her yarn hair wrapped around my fingers. A noise outside awakens me. I get out of bed to peek through the side of my old plastic shade. I see an unfamiliar silver sedan parked in front of my house. My skin begins to crawl, only I don't know why, the car looks normal, like any other '70s vehicle. But this car gives me a creepy feeling. The passenger side door opens and my mother gets out. Then I think, oh its just my mom. Then I see my mother exiting the front door of my house. What the hell? Two mothers? clones?They walk across our perfectly manicured lawn toward one another. I am sweating now and my heart is pounding in my chest. I feel this other mom is bad, she looks just like my real mom but more confident, perhaps taller. Her blue eyes are just a little lighter...hollower? Both of the women look at each other and nod as they pass, but don't speak. My real mom gets into the car...I let go of the shade which making an awful sound as the plastic rubs against the wooden sill. SHHH. I don't want them to know I was watching. I crawl back into bed and close my eyes. My blanket is no longer soft. It's just an itchy back of an old bedspread chafing my skin. I am too scared to sleep. I do sleep though, because I was sleeping in the first place.
When I wake up for real, I still feel a little freaked out. The suspicious feelings lingering throughout the day. And always when I would see my mom, I would wonder if it was the nice one or the evil one.
This dream may just have been a way for a young child to sort through feelings having to do with adoption. I know I have 2 moms, even if I may never meet my birthmom. It could also be that even at this early age, I was smart enough to figure out that my mom really had two personalities. To strangers, she comes across as really really nice, dumb but nice. It takes a little while to really see her for who she is. Deep down inside, I don't think I ever really thought of her as nice. Why else would I dislike her so much? I like nice people, nice people make me feel good about myself. They don't make me feel guilty or sad when I am around them. I certainly wouldn't be friends with people who made me feel that way. Of course she would say it's just my imagination. She is also good at trying to make me think I am crazy.
Crazy Bitch!
I am also hoping for an NC17 Rating, as my other blog is G Rated. Ha.
