Back Again, Naturally.

“’History,’ Stephen said, ‘is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake” – James Joyce

They are back.

My adoption nightmares. Sigh. I don’t know the triggering event. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with them (besides get restless sleep).

Two nights in a row. Upsetting, crying, screaming, shaking, nightmares.

The first starred my caseworker.  I don’t remember it all but I remember she gave me two pieces of paper, one notebook sized and one the size of a poster or flyer. The other thing she gave me was a minicassette dated January 1986. January 1986 was the time I landed in Chicago, nearly 4 months pregnant, alone.  I wonder what the cassette of my dreams has on it? I did not listen to it in the dream.

The second dream, last night, starred both my daughter and her father. And they both played themselves. You know how sometimes in a dream a face gets blurred or its a person but not a person?  This was definitely both of them.

With her father I was happy by anxious. He also gave me presents. Several. Again, don’t remember all the visual details. Appeared we were in hotel room of some sort. One of the gifts he gave me was an enormous umbrella. HUGE. Like a tent on a stick. you put your head up into it, held the handle and the zippered your self into it. (WTF?).

I was equal parts scared and happy in that dream with him. Must ponder it more during the day to see what comes back to me.

Finally, my daughter. Dont remember the inciting incident but she was sitting on a couch next to me, appeared as though we were in an office building, or college dorm or something. She was ignoring me, pretending I wasnt there (I was right next to her) and then she started to say something mean or nasty like "I am going to ignore you forever so you may as well just leave now".  I then exploded. Got in her face and yelled and said she could ignore me all she wanted to, be as mean and rude as she wanted to, I wasnt going anywhere. I was literally holding her down and she was kicking me and squirming.

Guh.  Thats not symbolic in anyway, right?

I hate these adoption dreams. They come when I least expect them. They leave me shaking in my bed, crying, unable to sleep, with this overwhelming sense of loss and ache.

Why can’t I be one of the few who "got over this"?

Sigh.

4 Thoughts.

  1. My heart goes out to you as I read your posts. I am inclined to think that those that “got over it” are living in a state of denial (one that I lived in for a long, long time). I wish there was a magic wand to take away your hurt.
    Thinking of you.

  2. Guh indeed, I still dream too, and Suz you know we never get over it. Not really, it becomes manageable, but never have I thought I was over “it” How could I be? I still hear that crying baby in my sleep some nights. Interestingly J and I talked last night about this stuff. (sort of) We have a good reunion, but we work hard to make it that way, we have had our share of bumps along the way, pull backs on both sides (even tho they were short) and yeah I understand exactly what you mean. Those dreams are terrifying aren’t they?

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