DREAM Saturday, Aug 29, 2009



1. I stole Former Lady Therapist’s little daughter (older infant/ young toddler).

2. I brought her home to a ramshackle apartment. It was Mom’s and she lived there, too. It was grubby and reminded me of her house near Ye Olde Hometown. Especially the bedroom and bed which I shared with her, the stolen child, and a child of my own (my son?) of the same age. It took up most of the bedroom and there was barely enough room at the foot of the bed to have a tight walkway. I noticed there was a window in the room. There were pretty curtains hanging there. The window was open and it looked very nice outside.

3. I went walking and I realized I was stressed out and not equipped to care for the stolen child and was looking for a way to give her back without being caught for stealing her.

4. I met my last therapist (adult male aspect of current therapist's personality?) on the walk, and he began walking with me. I brought him back to the apartment. I introduced him to the stolen child and the problem without being blatant about having stolen her. We went walking again to discuss things. He was kind and empathetic. It was not entirely clear how he might help, but I knew that he could.

5. He started talking about his office and the landlord he’s been renting from. The landlord was Dr. 'Bluegrass', former family doctor from hell (I don’t care that he graduated second in his class from Harvard Medical School - I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care - an ass is an ass is an ass). (And current therapist’s office is on 'Bluegrass' Ave! - for real!) I carefully inquired about how that was going. Just as I suspected he might, Last Therapist began to complain about Dr. 'Bluegrass' and the problems inherent in renting space from someone like him. The conversation shifted to him moving to another office and then I woke up.

I was very tired and stayed in bed for a while listening to the ruckus in the living room which had been disturbing my sleep off and on all afternoon. Then I heard the little girl talk to me in my head. She said, “I feel sad.”

Context:
1. A recent blow up with the therapist (Rambo vs. Aesop).

2. I had a terrible meltdown over getting a UTI. I left phone messages for the therapist in the middle of that crisis, but he had been away all day. He sent me an email that made me feel safe enough to get myself together and do the grocery shopping. Things calmed down a little for me then.

3. We discussed the blow up after that. I also explained how I know there is a lot of possibility with us because of how he responded when I remembered what the dirtball did to me. I told him how valuable that possibility is to me and he seemed to appreciate that. He also seemed to see clearly why the meltdown happened.

4. There has been A LOT of hypochondria and health anxiety for me, not just about my own health, but that of my family (UTI, swine flu, injured upper abs, worried about husband, sick kids).

5. The therapist went on vacation.

6. I have been using daydreaming, fantasy and dissociation to cope with everything. Though it feels as if I have been relying on these things very heavily, the majority of my waking hours have contained a lot of anxiety. I think this is why I have been sleeping well. It seems that sometimes I can choose - be tortured while awake, or fall asleep and then get it. Friday was less anxious and more dissociated and now this dream. I’m tired. I’m very, very tired and the little girl is sad.

That is all.