Some dreams are the types of dreams we all can live without
Nightmares last night. Only one stands out really clearly. I had it early on in the night, and woke up thinking: really? I need sleep desperately and you send me this? Because now I'm upset and awake. Not helpful, subconscious!
I dreamt my parents were dead. My older brother and I found them, they were on vacation somewhere, and for some reason Quinn and I found them dead in their hotel room. The image was blurry, I just remember ugly bedspread print in brown florals and gray. And disbelief. And then it was days later, I was walking outside somewhere, surrounded by brick buildings and rain, and I suddenly remembered finding them dead. I hadn't dealt with it. I hadn't thought about it. I hadn't grieved or told anyone. Worst of all, I hadn't told my little brother. I'm suffused with grief and regret and shame - now I would have to tell Dusty, and he'd always know I didn't tell him right away, and how could I just let it go this far? I hadn't wanted to acknowledge their deaths. I thought a moment that maybe Quinn had told him, but I realized it was supposed to be up to me. And I started crying, unable to breathe, overcome with the thought that I hadn't had any kids yet, my kids would grow up without my parents for grandparents, Dusty would always blame me for not telling him right away, I would never talk to Mom and Dad again, I could never share any more of my life with them, and I woke up teary and gasping. Yay. For what horrible shame am I punishing myself this time? Because this, this is not something I need to beat myself up over. Really.
Other dreams later in the night included a lot of driving, but that's all I remember now, except all of them were filled with stress and worry. I need to take a serious chill pill, and I don't even know why.
I dreamt my parents were dead. My older brother and I found them, they were on vacation somewhere, and for some reason Quinn and I found them dead in their hotel room. The image was blurry, I just remember ugly bedspread print in brown florals and gray. And disbelief. And then it was days later, I was walking outside somewhere, surrounded by brick buildings and rain, and I suddenly remembered finding them dead. I hadn't dealt with it. I hadn't thought about it. I hadn't grieved or told anyone. Worst of all, I hadn't told my little brother. I'm suffused with grief and regret and shame - now I would have to tell Dusty, and he'd always know I didn't tell him right away, and how could I just let it go this far? I hadn't wanted to acknowledge their deaths. I thought a moment that maybe Quinn had told him, but I realized it was supposed to be up to me. And I started crying, unable to breathe, overcome with the thought that I hadn't had any kids yet, my kids would grow up without my parents for grandparents, Dusty would always blame me for not telling him right away, I would never talk to Mom and Dad again, I could never share any more of my life with them, and I woke up teary and gasping. Yay. For what horrible shame am I punishing myself this time? Because this, this is not something I need to beat myself up over. Really.
Other dreams later in the night included a lot of driving, but that's all I remember now, except all of them were filled with stress and worry. I need to take a serious chill pill, and I don't even know why.