I can breathe again. And I'm sleepy and I feel safe.

I did it. I kept my Wednesday appointment with the therapist and actually managed to speak with him. And I just sent him this --



Hi, [Dream Mother] .

After talking to you again, I want to be able to tell you the other part of what plagued me while you were gone. I want to, but... I don't remember it well. Because of the internet, I can go find out about the things that get blocked off. I just log on and go looking for myself. I found this conversation I had with another author on his writer's blog. The topic was things that spark the imagination; the place where stories come from. Specifically, he mentioned hearing things differently than how they were really said.



from October 25th

Me: This very thing just happened to me not twenty minutes ago! My daughter said, “A doggie kissed me.” I thought she said, “A doggie chased me.”

Writerly Friend: Somewhere between “kissed” and “chased” is where a story lives. Why was a dog chasing your child? What would happen if it caught her (it doesn’t have to be bad, maybe that’s where “kissed” comes into play)?



[Dream Mother] , the thing is... I didn't tell him ALL of what was said. I left something out because it made me feel uncomfortable. [Youngest daughter] REALLY said, "A weiner-dog kissed me." I thought she said, "A weiner-dog chased me." I read this conversation, and then I put it together with this dream from my blog:



from October 16th

[This is where I pasted in the nightmare from the penis-snake post.]



[Dream Mother] , I get the dream. 'The snake' is behind me (in the past), but that is how it can bite me in the back of the head (make me remember) and 'poison my brain' (make me lose my mind like when I remembered the other stuff). Also, in the dream, I had locked my husband out of the bedroom and that is why he could not help me. In reality, [husband] has only slept in the bedroom with me on one occasion in the past couple of months. I had an awful night terror that night. It was truly horrible, worse than the one with the snake. [Husband] wanted to sleep in here tonight. I made up an excuse for now, but I have to let him in. His back is bothering him. I need to figure out something. Until I do, maybe I will just eat lots of garlic and stop shaving my legs. Sometimes it makes me feel a little more secure when I do unattractive things like that. The feelings of weirdness about telling you this stuff are trying to come in. I guess I'm worried. I don't want any freaky stuff. I don't like disturbances. Especially when I am the one creating them. I don't want some loud meltdown in the middle of the night, and I DON'T want my husband to bump into any of my memories and make them fall off their shelves and crush me. I am very afraid of this. I am very afraid of falling into a hellish pit that I won't be able to crawl out of.

There. I did my best. I put together a good chunk of what caused some of the stuff that went on while you were gone and I told it to you. There are thoughts in my head saying, "Are you fucking insane? Why did you do that? Let it rest." My answer, "It never rests, it just lies in wait. That's why I'm doing this." Did I mention my biggest health problems are being caused by head congestion? Yeah. I guess my body is still a copycat.

Please save this for next week in case I am stuck, okay? Thank you, [Dream Mother] . I do think I can trust you. So you're not perfect... fine. Just so long as you are here. I worry about you leaving me because I need to know you are here in case 'my child' ends up being kissed by any of the weiner-dogs who chase her. I am terrified to be without you should that happen because the crazy place is even worse than the crying place. I can't handle that without having you fully with me like you were with that first memory. I just don't have that kind of strength. You remember the difference between the first time and the second time, right? They were both hell, but the second one was worse. That was partly because I was so shocked and horrified that it could happen twice, and partly because I didn't feel you were fully with me. I think I know you well enough, [Dream Mother] . And strangely, you being imperfectly human makes you a strong support for me. I don't need you to be perfect. I felt in my body what you are about (that is what I brought back from CA with me). As long as you don't abandon me or reject me, then you're close enough to perfect for me. Maybe I can let my husband back in the bedroom if you can sit at my desk again. Hopefully, you won't mind sitting in a room that smells of garlic breath? I'll imagine an air freshener on my desk just for you, okay?



Somewhere between “kissed” and “chased” is where a story lives.
Writer's block explained, eh?