Dreams: January 17


Phoebe and I are dealing with Mom. She is a mask/head in my hands, which looks almost African-style. Leather strips are woven in and out of her skull, especially on the forehead. I'm telling Mom all the things she's done over the years to hurt Phoebe and me. I pull out a leather strip from her head with each issue I tell her about. She can't respond because her mask isn't able to talk out loud. Phoebe and I are finally getting a chance to articulate our hurt feelings, our anger, all the things about Mom that have given us so much pain.
It's not until the end that I realize I have accidentally pulled out all the leather strips holding together Mom's skull. Suddenly her head collapses in my hands. It no longer has any life. While before her head was 3-D, it now is flat -- a piece of paper with no face. I feel like I've accidentally killed Mom. I didn't mean to.
I look down and see that the paper has designs of my childhood on it. It is a storyline of all the difficult issues Phoebe and I have had to face. A piercing blow of extreme pain hits me; I see that we have layers and layers of pure, painful shit to deal with sometime (because I know that we can't brush it aside as forgotten memories). It's almost too much to bear at this point.
Now Mom is gone, out of my life. I realize that I must get rid of any objects connected to the past. I'm in my room, throwing armloads of stuff into boxes. I need to throw it out, to disown it. It's suddenly very easy to get rid of these objects because they feel like filth. I don't want any of it in my possession anymore. I throw away all my stuffed animals. I throw out Phoebe's too. It's all a big relief yet also painful. I didn't mean to kill Mom. It's left a huge void in my life, but it is a necessary release.


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