I had a dream. That’s original… But this was an actual dream, the sleeping kind and not the long-held desire for something. Or wait, now I’m getting confused. Typical.
I dreamt, ok here I go into the depths of embarrassing. I mean who the Hades writes about their dreams in a blog? That’s like one step away from a person describing their stools. Sorry. But… I have to. You see, I think I might have had this dream because of all this blog writing I’m recently doing. The onion is stripping down in me to that green bit in the middle.. the bit no one really wants to eat. Like it could be a new stalk of onion. Ok, that’s settled it. Here I go. And I promise I won’t tell you what it looked like after it left my body.
Last night I dreamt that my dad called up my mum and asked if he could move in with her. In my dream she didn’t live in her actual house in west London though (well, officially Middlesex), but in this funky house on a river. It was a sort of an industrial, cosy, open-plan living space. It was red inside too and had a spiral staircase. I know these interior housing details are technically unimportant but my mum would probably enjoy hearing about this part of the dream possibly as much as the bit about my father, so I have to oblige her.
My parents split up when I was 12. It was hard. It was hard especially because none of us saw it coming. Well, except my father who instigated it. Nowadays of course, this isn’t such a simplistic tale. Everyone has their own side of the story.. and enough time has passed now for everyone to have aired their feelings. I wanted to end the last sentence with ‘on this matter’, but this makes it sound like a business deal or a medical issue, and whether I like it or not, it was more than that. It was our lives wrapped around each other’s love and support. It was my universe… gone in a month.
Boy oh boy. Well, we survived it. And all of us are still alive. Not all of us get along very well with each other now but still, the Earth hasn’t stopped rotating and I’ve made peace with that.. which makes the appearance of this dream even more like being smacked with a piece of driftwood. Like that chunky Welsh piece I saw in the sand dunes the other day.
Back to my dream. I don’t know for certain if my mum accepted my father’s request to move in to her cool house. They were kind of negotiating it. I wonder if my eyes were doing that freaky, fast-moving thing while I was dreaming it. Urghhh. Anyhow, my dad was there with his suitcase packed and ready. And whether my mum agreed or not, I think he was pretty much on his way.
So, all in all, not much happened in the dream. On this note; how longs do dreams last? It felt like it went on for hours, but in reality it could have been five minutes. Wouldn’t it be cool if someone could invent a dream timer? But I’m digressing. Here’s the uncanny bit.
Watching their machinations, I became flooded with the weirdest feeling. Like Titanic the sinking ship didn’t have anything on me. This feeling was a sense of safety. Of course not like Titanic. But, even as I was dreaming it, it was clear that this was the stuff of my childhood. Core stuff. In my dream of watching my parents basically fart around, I knew everything was going to be ok because my family was going to be together again. We would have each other to love and support once more. At that moment I didn’t give a shit if my parents were nice people who paid their taxes on time and also managed to be kind and funny people, but just that they were MINE. I can only describe it here as an unbridled happiness that I don’t experience in my conscious life. I’d forgotten how to feel this safe in my conscious life. I just didn’t. I just don’t.
Then I woke up. Oh well. Back to it.