Clearly my relationship with my mother is/was somewhat loaded. This year will mark the 5th year anniversary of her death. I still wait for a dream of comfort and connection, just like I did when she was living I guess.
Last night's dream was not much of an exception with regard to the lack of comfort I'm sad to report. I saw my mother sober, with huge breasts (in all fairness there have been hormonal things going on in my waking life, and just yesterday I was speaking to a girlfriend about the state of breasts during menopause, but I digress). She was telling me (talking to me!) that she was going into nursing (!?). I was surprised and happy for her, encouraging her. At one point she pulled out one of her huge breasts and there were boils all over it. She was applying some kind of salve to the area. The psychoanalytic fodder inherent in this dream is not lost on me. I remember feeling a little left behind, a little ignored, a little not acknowledged, again. How could I compete with such an enormous breast, such painful boils. And while she spoke to me I felt had I not made my presence known, she would just as easily made like I wasn't there.
I always have a bit of a heavy heart after dreaming about my mother. The dreams where she is riotously drunk seem to affect me less, I guess I sort of expect those. But believe it or not there is something that I am grateful for in all this. I am grateful I have access to these feelings that come up. I strongly believe that ignoring them or pretending them away, would cost me a lot more in the long run. I have developed a strength I like to think, in that I can carry these feelings. They are no doubt a part of me. My story is my story and there is no denying it, no making it go away, no making it prettier.
I am grateful for my strength.