Saturday, August 29, 2009

Nightmare Journeys: Spitting Out Broken Teeth And Death In A Burning Car

They're baaaaack.

My nightmares. They visited me this morning. This is going to be an awful post, so do not read on unless you like graphic stuff.

The scene was perfectly set for some gut wrenching bad dreams. Last night I went dancing with my friend, Amy, then fell asleep on her hard futon until exactly 5:11 AM. I folded myself into my Jetta, and drove home on the quiet streets of Uptown. I managed to wash my face and put on some pjs before crawling into bed at 5:43 AM.

The dreams... They started with a classic anxiety show. It began with a broken tooth. I spit it out in my hand, and looked at the shard of white enamel and grey filling. Then more broken teeth started coming out. My mom was there. She had me spit the broken teeth into the palm of her hand. It didn't hurt, but I remember becoming increasingly concerned as more teeth came out. Just this big pile of tooth shards was amassing in her hand. I told myself not to panic and just to get it all out. So I just kept spitting out all my broken teeth.

In the next scene, I was setting up a tent on a hill. It was storming and rain was pouring down. I was waiting for some campers to join me. I got soaked in my tent. I remember that I was feeling this creeping dread as I was waiting for some news about my family. I knew something was very wrong.

Next scene... Sitting at a long table, my dad was there, and maybe some lawyers. We were learning the awful news that my mom had been killed by either her Bridge Group or the Women's Club. They had burned her alive in a car. Then I learned that my aunt had also been killed, in some related scenario. I could not believe the news. I could not understand why they would have killed her and how my aunt could have died at the same time. My two women, GONE.

Next I was in the balcony of a church by myself. I was so grief-stricken that I considered that it might be too hard to live the rest of my life. I was thinking about my mom, about how I had no idea of what she would want for her funeral. I thought about how her dad died when she was young. Then I realized that I would eventually have to get rid of her stuff, and I didn't think I could bring myself to do it. I decided that I would select a suitcase-worth of her things and that would be what I would keep.

I was missing my aunt – I wanted to talk to her. I was trying to get in touch with my cousins. Apparently part of my aunt's death was connected to the fact that my cousin Matthew had not sold enough cookies out of the excuse that he had dance class, but then these murderers discovered that Matthew had only attended dance three times.

Next I was at a convenient store in a car with some girl. I was trying to make myself look presentable for some family reunion we would be attending. But I accidently put pink eye shadow all over my cheeks and forehead because it was dark and I had a different purse.

We made it to the family reunion. Some relative stopped me and said, "You have so many nieces and nephews here – such a big family you have!" I walked around this crowded basement looking for my dad. It seemed that no one knew my mom had died, and this was my dad's side of the family. I found my dad around the corner. He had a paper plate with veggies and appetizers and he was wearing his white and blue Nautica sweater.

"Dad, I just can't believe this about mom. Are you sure? Are you positive she really is dead?"

My dad looked at me with a let's discuss this outside look.

We walked outside and I felt bad, as though I had ruined his temporarily nice time. I could not shake the feeling that, besides my dad, I had no one now. My mom and my aunt were gone and I was choking over the inevitability of death. I couldn't believe how hard it was to get through each second without suffering from excruciating depression.

I was so disappointed that we had never planned for this. We had never talked about WHAT TO DO IN CASE OF DEATH.

When I woke up this morning, I called my mom immediately. Ironically, she was happily out for breakfast with her Bridge Group. She listened to my sobs and patiently said in a delightful way, "But honey, nobody is burning me in a car. My friends are being very nice today!" I told her in total seriousness that I wanted us to plan out each of our funerals, and, in a more serious tone she said, "I know. There are a lot of things I wish we would have planned for."

I called my Aunt Susan next. Told her the whole story. "But it's a beautiful day! I am going for a walk, you should come!" I had the strange Twilight Zone sensation that I knew something that no one else would accept or realize – That we are ALL GOING TO DIE.


There is only one person who will get this and who will give me the space for a nice long opportunity to chat this out. I'll just call Dad.. –

Wait. Ohhh. I see.

This dream. This horrific series of events. THIS is what my subconscious is managing on a day-to-day basis while I put on my high heels and putz around at work pretending that I am not utterly devastated that my dad lies mute and paralyzed in a hospital bed. THIS is what my brain is working on backstage.

Amazing, really. Amazing to think that we can become accustomed to grief and just get on with things. We are so adaptable... just keep the line moving please, thank you.

I want to go over to the hospital and tell my dad about this anyway, because I know he understands every word I say. I want to get in some "Dad Time" where I can be the center of his concerns, and we can pretend that he will drive over to my place and take a stroll around the lake.

Death. I gotta get comfortable with it. It is part of life. So is breaking teeth. Death. I need to allow you to be okay in my book so that you can't come creeping after me at night.


  1. (i know luv....)


  2. Not sure how I stumbled on this, but what an interesting read.