"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight..."

"...and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." ~Oscar Wilde

I am, by nature, a dreamer. My mind is usually a jumble of stress and emotion during the day, but for some reason manages to sort and file itself into an almost recognizable and damn-near functional human psyche after I slip into The Dreaming (as Neil Gaiman calls the twilight world). Consider the following...

My dad asked me to call him on my birthday. We kept missing each other, and he emailed again a couple days ago to pinpoint a more exact time that would be good for both of us. I had talked to Nick about it already, who shared his sunshiney opinion - that my dad was starting to see things from a different light and wanted to turn over a new leaf. I was more inclined to a slightly less optimistic point of view - perhaps he had a terminal illness and wanted to make amends, or perhaps early-onset Alzheimer's and wanted to talk to me before he forgot how.

My heart was pounding and I tasted metal on the back of my tongue as I dialed on the way home from work. He picked up, and his tone was strained. We weren't more than a few words into the conversation before I realized I didn't need to clear my calendar for Thanksgiving and Christmas just yet. Here are some highlights -

He was less than impressed with my 13 year old brother contacting me a few months back and me not immediately reporting his disobedience to my parents. Apparently my duty was to rat out a troubled little boy to the people who forfeited any communication with me 3 years ago, and by not doing so, I proved to them that I would still prefer a sneaky, dishonest state of existence to an above-board relationship. I "set Mason up to fail." If I had made a "better" decision, the long-awaited conversation with my dad would have been 100% different according to him. Got to hear the same old sob story about how my mother will take my words and actions to the grave and re-lives them every day. He said, "Do not have any sort of contact with my minor children. I'm sure, as a parent now, you can understand..." and that's really the last thing I actually heard. My mind flashed back to countless arguments in my childhood that had ended with, "When you're a parent, you'll understand." The problem is, now that I'm a parent I understand even less. In fact, I find their words and actions appalling. Here are some of my responses -

I did the best I could with a difficult situation and handled it in the way I felt was most right. I had a troubled sibling reaching out to me and didn't turn him away or sell him out. I acted like a big sister. I still felt like I'd made the right decision and was sorry he disagreed, but that was the nice thing about us both being adults - we could make decisions the other disagreed with. Just the fact that he considered Mason talking to me "setting him up to fail" spoke volumes about how his opinion really hadn't changed. I was really over a happy relationship with my family being the proverbial carrot always dangled in front of me. He hadn't called to start over. He'd called to tell me that once again, he thought I'd fucked up and was disappointed and I had so many other things going on in my life right now, I really couldn't be bothered with all that. As far as my mother was concerned, I told him that I asked for forgiveness for my actions and apologized years ago. I had forgiven them and moved on to lead a healthy, happy life. It wasn't any concern of mine that she chose to relive it until it ate her alive like a cancer. My responsibility ended years ago. The rest was on her. "And as for me being a parent, all I understand is that as a parent, I could never let one of my kids slip through the cracks, so I'm pretty sure we can leave my child out of this. You're going to think what you want about this, so there's really nothing left to say. I love you, despite what you may think." He hung up.


I pulled the car into a parking lot so I could cry properly. I started to drive home again when I could see the road again. Now I'm not saying this for worry or sympathy, but I saw a car in the oncoming lane and I was too far over because my eyes were still blurred. I swerved out of the way and pulled onto my street, but I thought, "Maybe I should have just let them hit me. Maybe things would be different then." I banished the thought as fast as it slithered into my head and realized just how poisonous my parents still were if they could instantly inspire such unhealthy emotions. Dano held me when I got home and told me he was proud of me, that I'd done and said the right things. I said I should have known better all along and trusted my suspicions that he had ulterior motives. Dano reminded me that I had shared the same suspicions when Nick had emailed and I was wrong then. That made me feel much better. I had sharp pains in my stomach and felt nauseated and had a headache. Par for the course after a conversation with one of my parents. I thought, "Feeling like crap physically - check. Feeling like crap emotionally - check. Self-esteem hanging in around zero - check. Oh yeah. Same old Dad."


I went upstairs and ran my hand over a sleeping Lilah Rose and swore before all the universe for the thousandth time that I'd never leave her. I got into bed and Dano held me until he drifted to sleep. I was restless and tossed and turned. Tears sneaked out of my eyes even when I screwed them tightly closed and I cursed my lachrymal glands. I tried feeling sad, angry, sorry for myself, and no emotion consoled me. I thought, "I bet my dad's not sleeping well tonight either, after all this." So I closed my eyes and meditated, emotionally reaching my arms out for a daddy who always loves me, never leaves me, and always heals me when my heart breaks. I asked to grant my dad a peaceful rest and a calm mind. As soon as I started asking good things for my dad, the hurt started to soothe a little and the scar tissue started to form again where my heart had just been wrenched open. I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed. 


I felt like I was falling, but not fast. I was more drifting down through an inky blackness, a dark so deep it was thick and palpable. It wasn't a scary darkness. It was calming and friendly. I fell into a dream where I had planned an elaborate party in the woods down to the last detail. I'm not sure what I was celebrating, but I had cooked all of this amazing food and made a bunch of handmade delicious candies. I made just enough for everyone I knew was coming. I was exhilarated, proud of my work, and excited. My dad and little brothers Noah and Mason (at the ages I saw them last) came along uninvited and ravenously devoured everything. My decorations were ruined, the food was gone, and they mocked my efforts. "Who has a party in the woods anyway? That food wasn't even good." I ran deep into the woods crying and threw myself at the base of an ancient oak tree. I felt strong arms around me and I opened my eyes. For some reason, I was still me, but I was also an acorn. I was covered in pine needles and looked almost like a hedgehog (I was me, but I could also see me. It was one of those dreams). I thought I'd open my eyes to a man holding me (they were man-arms) but I saw I was being held lovingly in the branches and boughs of the tree. I was surprised and curious. With hands that looked like branches and leaves but felt like hands, the tree brushed off the dirt and needles from my skin. "Why am I an acorn?" I asked the tree.
"Because you've always been mine."
"Who are you?"
"You were theirs for a time, but you've always belonged to me."
"But who are you?" All around me, and yet only in my head, I heard a line from the song "The Hazards of Love 4 - The Drowned". It went "And painting rings around your eyes, these peppered holes so filled with crying. A whisper weighed upon the tattered down where you and I were lying. But I pulled you and I called you here, and I caught you and I brought you here."
"You brought me here? Why?"
"Because you're mine. I love you and you're mine. They had you for their time but we have taken you back." I looked around the canopy. 
"Who is 'we'?" It was just understood that it was the same tree, but that tree was connected to all the other trees in the forest, the soil and water with its roots, the heavens with its highest branches, the universe itself.
"You aren't theirs anymore. Now grow." And I was planted between two mountainous roots at the base of the ancient oak tree.


Then I woke up.