dreams: August 12, 1998

why I want separation from Mom

I'm at John's house, downstairs in the living room. The phone rings. It's Mom. I'm facing the window to the alley. Mom asks me some question, like do I want to come back up? I say no, and proceed to tell her how I'm feeling. I stay calm while I tell her a lot of my feelings. John is in the room listening. I say that Phoebe and I want to "carve" her out of our lives because we recognize that she is in a sick self-destructive cycle of relapses that keeps us locked in a pattern of torture. We're through wanting to do that. We don't want her back in our lives until she makes some fundamental changes. I tell her that I love her and want to forgive her, but right now I can't since I have so much anger/rage/hatred against her that has building up since I was a little kid. It started when she put Phoebe and I in an emotionally, physically and sexually abusive environment. I tell her that I feel like I was never able to express my anger, nor were many of my other feelings ever acknowledged. Our mother-daughter relationship is out of balance because I don't get the respect that's due, and I'm constantly having to argue why I'm "right" in feeling whatever way I do. I'm tired of having to defend myself against Mom's twisted manipulations and the lies she tells herself. I tell her that I know that she's going through pain right now, even though her defense mechanism is to act like everything is perfect and that she is doing really well without us as her daughters anymore. I say that I know she's insecure and lacks self-love, which is perhaps one of the first changes she needs to make to really live a healthy life.
By now Mom is silent and crying. She's mad. She says something spiteful about how the green convertible Jaguar was stolen from the Peerless Hotel last night, hinting that I'd done it. She asks me why the soap that didn't belong to me was broken?
We hang up, and I feel much better having finally expressed all those feelings to Mom. It's a real relief to have broken my silence and stood up for myself.
I go look on the stairs, standing at the bottom. I see that a huge nicely-wrapped bar of soap is sitting on one of the steps; it belongs to Peerless and is now mushed to little pieces, much of it missing.

[9:50am- The phone just rang. John picked up the phone downstairs, while I'm sitting here in my room, writing my dreams down. I picked up the phone to see who it was, knowing what I'd hear. Sure enough, I heard Mom's voice. "I'm talking to John," she said when she heard me pick up the phone, insinuating that I'd have to hang up. She and I are telepathically linked, and she must've felt the intense release I had from this dream that I had only moments ago.]

She wanted to make it look like I had smashed the soap. She had snuck into the house when we weren't there. I think about having to get locks to keep her out. Somehow the fancy green car was missing too (from the stairs? from Peerless?).
Then I'm back up at Mom's house. I'm sitting with her on Beach Street, the dirt road in front of the house. Somehow Frank and his daughter are involved. How did I get back up here? I wonder to myself. I'm falling back into the same old routine, forgetting about what's happened. So I leave as quickly as I can.
Then I'm riding a bike made all of wood; it's a primitive device that steers from one central handle in the middle -- a wood chunk coming out of the center of the handle bar. I am at the bottom of Lithia Park, near the old Renaissance Rose store. Eli Lieberman and his friend are at a car parked on the side of the street. They're taking a trip. I stop to talk to them. I lead them to another place, going full speed down into a narrow doorway and then onto a brick patio, but luckily I don't lose control or crash.
Suni and I are ordering food at a cafe together.

- FIN -

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