I had a nightmare a few nights ago. Nightmares are no stranger to me. I have nightmares at least once or twice a week and I should probably document them more often. Each one is very vivid and detailed; most times I can remember every bit of it when I wake. Luke has to wake me occasionally because I am crying, screaming,  or kicking. Some trouble me so deeply that I go through the next day feeling like it really happened.

Last night, I dreamed about my mother. She was at my house under my care again but more like she was when she first arrived. She was lively, lucid and still on the go. My sister Tracy was at my house with her son Avery.  My mother could do nothing but talk of Avery and what Tracy had done for her. She would tell me over and over that she thought she should go live with them. As much as I begged and asked why, she continued to tout them without saying a word about me positively or negatively.  I was so upset that I was crying and I told my mother, “Maybe you should go live with Tracy. Let me help you pack your things!”

Luke woke me because I was crying. I truly felt the pain….deep down. My mother was the one person I always knew would be there for me, no matter what. And in the nightmare, she wasn’t. Kind of like now.


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