(no subject)
Following suit after the ever inspiring
apocalypticbob, I am going to post about my dream last night as well. Mine was not nearly as creepy, but disturbing in a very personal sort of way. Thankfully there were no clowns in my dream, I hate clowns. Icons of desperate, forced hilarity. There is always something vaguely menacing about them, as if you do not laugh they will slit you open from crotch to crown. I probably should not have read It when I was 12.
Anyway, I had a dream about my son last night. Or more accurately, his mother and her father. Somehow I tracked down Forrest's grandfather, and I needed to get copies of some records. I am not certain exactly what it was I needed, or why. Or why I thought he would get them for me. I know at least one of the things I needed was a copy of our divorce papers, and other things relating to our marriage and to Forrest. I was at their house, and my ex was there, with Forrest, as well as several other children she had born since our divorce. At least two, maybe more. She was apparently single, and seemed sad and a little desperate. I got the impression if I smiled at her she would cling to me and never let me go. The very thought made me nauseous, I might add.
Forrest was there, but I could never actually see him. And it was extremely important that he not know who I actually was. After some weird, surreal chaos, with lots of different people coming in and out of the house, I gave Forrest's grandfather ten dollars for one set of papers, and then I had to give him a blank check so he could get the rest of them. I gave him the check all wadded up in a tiny little ball.
At one point, I did get to say hello to Forrest, even though I never actually saw his face. But I had to introduce myself as an old friend of his mother's. I wanted so badly to just reach out and pull him to me and know him, and have him in my life. And in my dream, even though he is 14 now, he was the size of probably a 6 year old. Most of my dream, other than the apparent age of Forrest, and some of the faceless, nameless people who kept coming in and out was extremely vivid and felt very life-like. The ache I felt was certainly poignantly real.
I woke up with tears drying on my cheeks in the cold, dark air. I miss my son. I still think the decision I made for him was the best thing for him, but not a day goes by that I do not regret that I was not a better man at the time, to be able to make a different decision that would have kept him in my life. I hope we find each other some day and he can forgive me. Maybe then I can forgive myself.
apocalypticbob, I am going to post about my dream last night as well. Mine was not nearly as creepy, but disturbing in a very personal sort of way. Thankfully there were no clowns in my dream, I hate clowns. Icons of desperate, forced hilarity. There is always something vaguely menacing about them, as if you do not laugh they will slit you open from crotch to crown. I probably should not have read It when I was 12.
Anyway, I had a dream about my son last night. Or more accurately, his mother and her father. Somehow I tracked down Forrest's grandfather, and I needed to get copies of some records. I am not certain exactly what it was I needed, or why. Or why I thought he would get them for me. I know at least one of the things I needed was a copy of our divorce papers, and other things relating to our marriage and to Forrest. I was at their house, and my ex was there, with Forrest, as well as several other children she had born since our divorce. At least two, maybe more. She was apparently single, and seemed sad and a little desperate. I got the impression if I smiled at her she would cling to me and never let me go. The very thought made me nauseous, I might add.
Forrest was there, but I could never actually see him. And it was extremely important that he not know who I actually was. After some weird, surreal chaos, with lots of different people coming in and out of the house, I gave Forrest's grandfather ten dollars for one set of papers, and then I had to give him a blank check so he could get the rest of them. I gave him the check all wadded up in a tiny little ball.
At one point, I did get to say hello to Forrest, even though I never actually saw his face. But I had to introduce myself as an old friend of his mother's. I wanted so badly to just reach out and pull him to me and know him, and have him in my life. And in my dream, even though he is 14 now, he was the size of probably a 6 year old. Most of my dream, other than the apparent age of Forrest, and some of the faceless, nameless people who kept coming in and out was extremely vivid and felt very life-like. The ache I felt was certainly poignantly real.
I woke up with tears drying on my cheeks in the cold, dark air. I miss my son. I still think the decision I made for him was the best thing for him, but not a day goes by that I do not regret that I was not a better man at the time, to be able to make a different decision that would have kept him in my life. I hope we find each other some day and he can forgive me. Maybe then I can forgive myself.