I had a dream and I was not myself. I sent this to the Dream Mother, but I am worried that he will not answer.

Do you remember what was happening right before I remembered what the dirtball did to me? It was my son. He was having terrible problems and the whole thing was causing my own mess to pound viciously on my door. You and I discussed the terrible anxiety I was having then. I didn't know what was happening to me, but I knew I was a mess and I felt the danger to myself. I felt it, but my boy was so miserable and scared. He was truly a tormented soul. I was the only person he trusted and I could not turn him away. I could not turn my baby away to spare myself some horror. I am his mother.

I think it's bad for me to go around feeling like there is no safe place for me to deal with the real problem. I've done what I can to prove myself wrong, but I guess my insides are not convinced that there is any safe place for me. I forgot about it, but when things got really bad, I tried to find another therapist while you were gone in case that would help. I really didn't think I would find anyone, but I was somehow able to put forth a real effort anyway. I found one lone possibility. Ultimately, that ended up not working out, seemingly because of my non-negotiable need to be anonymous, unidentifiable, and completely non-locatable. I offered a release of liability in exchange, but it turned out that it was not enough. I don't trust anyone anymore and I can't fix that. I am afraid of people and I'm afraid of telling anyone anything. I know I am not the only person who is unable to tolerate my distress. I no longer think there is anyone who can. If I am wrong about that, then the numbers are so few that it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. I am trapped like this. I have no choice but to keep it all under lock and key to protect myself from more damage, yet I cannot tolerate this by myself when pieces threaten to escape. I don't dare do anything different because I cannot fight back anymore should I be attacked or mishandled in a damaging way. More damage would kill me, but I can't quite figure out why I am protecting a life that is not worth anything anymore. My mother and grandmother were right all along. They knew what would happen to me if they did not force me to find a way to pretend and forget. They knew that sorry, miserable people like themselves were the majority. They were right. Perhaps that was the greater truth. The world is what it is. I no longer think individuals have the power to change it. People have only the power to change themselves, so that's what I did. Did I ever tell you about my black and white dreams? When I began to understand that almost all of my dream characters were representative of me, my unconscious deemed it necessary to make some dream characters black instead of white when it was important to let me know that a character (a black one) represented someone other than me. Last night (morning) I dreamed that I was a little black girl. I was left alone in my grandparents' house and was led away by a black cop for being some kind of a nuisance or burden. He said something to somebody about 'Leesha's leash'. Leesha was my name. We passed a coat rack on the way out and I saw my grandmother's coats. My grandmother is very short, but I saw one that I thought might fit me.

There is no mother. I am losing all hope.