Before I talk about dreams, I do want to acknowledge that some of my posts (like yesterday's) have perhaps sounded a bit self-pitying. It's like, especially these last six months since turning sixty-eight, all the old sludge in me seems to have needed to surface -- anger, grief, confusion. My best way to find some peace with it all has been to explore it here, but doing such things in public still feels very strange. Yet in the end, I keep thinking, good heavens, if a well-educated east coast woman with European roots in America back to the 1600's has rarely been cheered on for anything she does, it's overwhelming to think about how many other people in this country could resonate. And while it is inspiring to see the videos cutting in to youngsters at gyms and swimming pools across the country, and it's obvious that their Olympic dreams are being birthed, it's also somewhat painful to me. As with pro sports and many other goals, most of these children will never reach that level, and never hear the cheers...or worse. In movies, toys, education and sports, young people are trained so early to compete, to see the world as "me/us vs. them". I just don't think this particular energy would exist at all in a more Goddess-centered realm.
Anyway, my dad. I referred yesterday to his presence at my 50th birthday party, and in 2006, I was still genuinely touched that he came and said a few nice words about me to those gathered. It is one of the events that has made me slightly question my later conclusion that he was a top of the line narcissist...but on balance, looking at my whole life, it was a painful experience of strange, cruel events, being invisible, lied to, or faced with constant paradoxes. There may have been some early moments when he praised me for a good report card (or whatever), but it was always so very "pro forma", with no genuine enthusiasm. And anytime you tried to talk about anything serious with him, he stared blankly and walked away. My mother's experience -- now that I understand things better -- must have been a nightmare. These last six years since his death have been about simply trying to understand, and put it all in perspective. He looked so kind and sweet, yet in the end, for me, was a complete black hole.
Sunday, I woke up from what I think is the first dream I've had about Dad since he died. I wanted to phone him up (I guess it was supposed to be the present, and he was still alive? Not sure!). The phone next to me was this 1920's or -30's era monstrosity, and of course it didn't work. The dream came to an end with me racing around, trying to find my cell phone. The impression I had was that I genuinely wanted his help at this crucial moment, wanted to speak to whatever part of him was real and caring. And of course, I cried in confusion, because it just seemed that in the dream I was setting myself up for the usual blank stare or silence on the other end.
So this morning, two days later, a dream that I cannot help but think comes on the heels of the first. Dad was standing to my right, and we were somewhere where "Project Runway" was filming (of all things!!!) The main contestant in the dream was a woman who had created an amazing gown during her season, one that I'd been kind of half-jokingly saying would be great when I dress up as the Goddess/Queen of the New Paradigm. Of course, when I went running to talk to her, I couldn't find her (typical Liz dream) but when I woke up, I was rather stunned. Two days ago, I urgently wanted my dad's love/assistance/feedback. And then two days later, he seems to be (on the dream plane) supporting me in regards to my future.
I'm not going to assume anything quite yet -- I would need a few more dreams or relevant experiences -- but an astonishing thought has come to me, which I don't think I've read about elsewhere. Would it be possible that the person in one's life who had been most challenging and most painful, could show up later as a kindly, loving guide? I had already tried to play with the idea that he was simply playing a role, to teach me the hardest lesson I needed to learn, but up until now I hadn't had any new "contact" with him. If this is for real, and even if I have no further dreams, I think the impression of him standing by my side (as if actually wanting to be "by my side") is so powerful that it has changed me forever. OMG. Thanks, Dad. Today I don't feel quite so alone, at least.
