The clock went back an hour early this morning, and it's officially winter time. And the sudden drop in temperature really revealed winter's approach.
I took the opportunity to sleep in, sleep properly till I wake up naturally.
I was woken up around 8or so by the need to go to the washroom. I went back to bed, and I dreamed...
Mum and dad appeared before me. They looked lovely, caring and warm. I reached out to touch them, at least I tried... I reached out to feel their warmth and feel love, for its been so long since I felt the warmth of another, felt true love from another...
But they disappeared. I ended up crying...
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
04 November 2012
01 November 2012
Dreams: seeing mum again
Woke up several times during the early hours of the morning. A new bed, my friend's bed, for he had offered it to me and taken the couch.
But I saw mum appear before me, the first time in weeks now. Just as I thought the pain and sadness had subsided, just as I thought I was over things and could carefully laugh and drink and have fun, they returned like a surge of the sea in the midst of a violent storm...
But I saw mum appear before me, the first time in weeks now. Just as I thought the pain and sadness had subsided, just as I thought I was over things and could carefully laugh and drink and have fun, they returned like a surge of the sea in the midst of a violent storm...
21 September 2012
Tears
I started to cry in the middle of the night after some misunderstanding with a friend which made me feel terribly guilty and terribly lonely. It was perhaps the second most intense crying session I experienced since I returned. There was just this loneliness, this terrible emptiness inside. I kept seeing images of mum and me holding her hand, seeing her lying at the hospital and being so weak and me sitting at her side trying to comfort her...
And I dreamed... of mum, of me howling in great pain. There was such a missing, such an intense longing for her I could not describe. The morning was again one of those I spent drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, and after really getting up I felt completely drained and exhausted... The intensity of the dream was numbing, and now I feel like I'm in a daze, like I've been through terrible torture and just feel numb now...
And I dreamed... of mum, of me howling in great pain. There was such a missing, such an intense longing for her I could not describe. The morning was again one of those I spent drifting in and out of sleep and consciousness, and after really getting up I felt completely drained and exhausted... The intensity of the dream was numbing, and now I feel like I'm in a daze, like I've been through terrible torture and just feel numb now...
20 July 2012
Disturbed sleep
Three nights in a row my sleep is so disturbed...
I close my eyes and try to rest my tired body and exhausted mind, and yet i wake up after an hour or two disturbed by dreams and thoughts and images... Random images and thoughts that don't make any sense at all, but that keep me from sleeping, properly sleeping.
So tired, so tormented.
I need to get out of here. I need to free my mind and thoughts.
I close my eyes and try to rest my tired body and exhausted mind, and yet i wake up after an hour or two disturbed by dreams and thoughts and images... Random images and thoughts that don't make any sense at all, but that keep me from sleeping, properly sleeping.
So tired, so tormented.
I need to get out of here. I need to free my mind and thoughts.
16 June 2012
Dreams
Another night full of dreams. Dreams of my ex, dreams which are so unsettling and so distracting...
I think of him, perhaps too much. I miss him... does he me? What is he doing half way around the world? I do not know. Did he break things off with his boyfriend as he promised to, as he told a mutual friend he would? Can I write to him, call him, confide in him and not feel like I am intruding in something and not think perhaps he is with another person?
He writes to me, he tells me how much he is thinking of me, praying for me and my mum. But the way we left things is so uncertain. He seemed to tell me to hold on, to keep on hanging there and wait for him to resolve things. But there is no assurance that he is being true to his word that he will deal with things and remove obstacles to us getting back together.
What saddens me most is that he has not called once since we said goodbye. He knows, or can at least very well imagine, how difficult this trip is for me. Other friends have at least called as I was about to leave the country. My ex, someone with whom I've shared so much with, someone I've never had any inhibition in opening up to over the last few years, did not even do that (to be fair, he did write a few emails...). How much does he really care? How could he say he cares and then not even bother to call since we said goodbye in such a terrible manner? How could he give me feelings of hope and tell me he loves me and would like to be with me, and yet just turn so cold after I leave the country?
I should not be left lingering like this... Don't I deserve some clarity or at least some closure? I really don't like being left like this. It is so distracting to be left to wonder what is (if anything) between us still, and to constantly have to hesitate and wonder whether I can turn to him and seek support from him at this critical time of need...
I think of him, perhaps too much. I miss him... does he me? What is he doing half way around the world? I do not know. Did he break things off with his boyfriend as he promised to, as he told a mutual friend he would? Can I write to him, call him, confide in him and not feel like I am intruding in something and not think perhaps he is with another person?
He writes to me, he tells me how much he is thinking of me, praying for me and my mum. But the way we left things is so uncertain. He seemed to tell me to hold on, to keep on hanging there and wait for him to resolve things. But there is no assurance that he is being true to his word that he will deal with things and remove obstacles to us getting back together.
What saddens me most is that he has not called once since we said goodbye. He knows, or can at least very well imagine, how difficult this trip is for me. Other friends have at least called as I was about to leave the country. My ex, someone with whom I've shared so much with, someone I've never had any inhibition in opening up to over the last few years, did not even do that (to be fair, he did write a few emails...). How much does he really care? How could he say he cares and then not even bother to call since we said goodbye in such a terrible manner? How could he give me feelings of hope and tell me he loves me and would like to be with me, and yet just turn so cold after I leave the country?
I should not be left lingering like this... Don't I deserve some clarity or at least some closure? I really don't like being left like this. It is so distracting to be left to wonder what is (if anything) between us still, and to constantly have to hesitate and wonder whether I can turn to him and seek support from him at this critical time of need...
13 June 2012
1AM
130612.0155
I was dreaming of flying and airports before the dreams were interrupted by a gagging sound. I turned my head, and saw mum vomit into a plastic bag. I remember this... I remember this all too well.
I rushed to her side. The carer already held the bag next to mum's mouth and was stroking mum's thin throat. Mum gagged and gagged. I held onto her had, which was hidden under her blanket. I looked at her with eyes that tried to comfort her, reassure her and remind her that I am by her side. A thought of choking, a gruesome image of mum chocking to death flashed across my mind...
Mum has become so thin. Her neck looks like that of a vulture, and is veiny and her bones are exposed under the thin flesh. I stroked mum's thin arm and held onto her hand. "It's ok... I'm here now. I'm here at your side no matter what..." I silently said.
A few more gagging sounds, and the discomfort mum was in seemed to have subsided. "Why is it like this...?" she asked, sounding puzzled and confused. I stroked her arm. I was reminded of what the doctor said hours earlier when he came in and when I asked him to update me on the latest. "The cancer is progressing. The duodenum and bile duct areas seem to have become blocked. That's why she has trouble eating now, and that's why she's throwing up more and more..."
"Go back to bed..." she said, "Go back to bed..." She looked at me with begging eyes. I know it pains her to vomit, not just because of the discomfort it causes her, but also because she feels "guilty" that it upsets me to see her sick and gag.
I stroked her arm a bit more, and patted her forehead and her hair. Her face has changed since I last saw her. She is thinner, more frail, bonier. I loathe to see her naked body, see how much of her body mass has been eaten away by the cancer to leave behind just bones and skin...
But cancer, you can change the way mum looks, you can rob her dignity and cause her to involuntarily vomit ad gag, you can "punish" her with vomiting and being sick... But I will continue to love her, hold her, stroke her arm and with the softness of my voice reassure her...
I was dreaming of flying and airports before the dreams were interrupted by a gagging sound. I turned my head, and saw mum vomit into a plastic bag. I remember this... I remember this all too well.
I rushed to her side. The carer already held the bag next to mum's mouth and was stroking mum's thin throat. Mum gagged and gagged. I held onto her had, which was hidden under her blanket. I looked at her with eyes that tried to comfort her, reassure her and remind her that I am by her side. A thought of choking, a gruesome image of mum chocking to death flashed across my mind...
Mum has become so thin. Her neck looks like that of a vulture, and is veiny and her bones are exposed under the thin flesh. I stroked mum's thin arm and held onto her hand. "It's ok... I'm here now. I'm here at your side no matter what..." I silently said.
A few more gagging sounds, and the discomfort mum was in seemed to have subsided. "Why is it like this...?" she asked, sounding puzzled and confused. I stroked her arm. I was reminded of what the doctor said hours earlier when he came in and when I asked him to update me on the latest. "The cancer is progressing. The duodenum and bile duct areas seem to have become blocked. That's why she has trouble eating now, and that's why she's throwing up more and more..."
"Go back to bed..." she said, "Go back to bed..." She looked at me with begging eyes. I know it pains her to vomit, not just because of the discomfort it causes her, but also because she feels "guilty" that it upsets me to see her sick and gag.
I stroked her arm a bit more, and patted her forehead and her hair. Her face has changed since I last saw her. She is thinner, more frail, bonier. I loathe to see her naked body, see how much of her body mass has been eaten away by the cancer to leave behind just bones and skin...
But cancer, you can change the way mum looks, you can rob her dignity and cause her to involuntarily vomit ad gag, you can "punish" her with vomiting and being sick... But I will continue to love her, hold her, stroke her arm and with the softness of my voice reassure her...
19 May 2012
Where there is a will...
There is a wei.
A few weeks ago an idea popped into my head. I remember I was in the hospital, with mum, who lay there asleep. My mind drifted to images of someone, who throughout my difficult moments, and moments of pain and despair seems to have the ability to lift me up-- even if we have not talked for a long, long time. In my moments of despair, hopelessness, my mind somehow, wrongly or rightly, drifts to my ex...
I fantasised about us meeting again, how special that would be after all this time. Even more special after he told me, explicitly and implicitly, how much he misses me, how important I seem to be in his life.
He once told me about a dream of his, and that is to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge with the person he truly loves. My mind put that knowledge with the longing to see him again in a special setting. So I wrote him a card, told him where I'd be and when, and said if he truly feels what he tells me, perhaps we could meet there on Brooklyn Bridge.
It seemed like a simple plan. A beautiful and wonderfully romantic idea. Two people, who obviously have feelings for one another, who obviously miss one another so much, and who know deep down there is still some potential in developing something special and something lasting, meeting at a most romantic setting at a most romantic time (dusk). "Perhaps it could be a new dawn..." I wrote him.
At first he told me he'd like to be there, he can be there. This was a week ago. I fantasised about our meeting. I dreamed and smiled just at the thought of seeing him again on the bridge that is so meaningful to him.
A few days ago he wrote me and said the timing is bad, for he needs to arrange to move things out of his old apartment. I was disappointed, yet I still clung onto hope of perhaps being able to see him...
Now, right now, the original plan is supposed to fall into place. At this very moment, at dusk, on Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side. In my fantasies, I would stand on the bridge, stare out at the skyline of Manhattan. And suddenly out of nowhere he would find me and call out my name... We would look into one another's eyes, we would hug. I would kiss him. I would whisper softly in his ears: "I've missed you so much..."
But now, at this very moment, I am in a small-town in NJ. He is in Montreal (I believe). He told me there are no available flights. Hotels are prohibitively expensive (I agree). He tells me he is very apologetic he cannot be (t)here with me. And he offers me other places and opportunities to meet. But I am not interested.
How disappointed I truly am. All those moments I imagined him being my source of comfort and support, and now it's just a great letdown. I cannot and should not be too harsh on him. I cannot know how tired my ex is from his work and having to deal with the stress of moving over the weekend. I cannot imagine what he is thinking, what he is truly feeling, and whether he truly means what he says.
But where there is a will, there is a Wei, right? What would you do to prove to someone how much they mean to you? What extremes would you go to to show sincerity in your word and what you really mean when you tell someone you love him and have always loved him? I know what I would do. I know I would find a way, journey through the night if I must. Just spend an hour with that special someone, if it comes to that. But I would be there. I would seize the chance I have been given again, and prove I am true to my word, true to my heart...
I am here, in NJ. I will be in NYC tomorrow, on the bridge in the afternoon (2-4) just before my flight in the evening.
Even if I am alone, I owe it to myself to fulfil my dream of standing on the bridge and admiring the manhattan skyline. Even if alone, I can dream of one day standing there with the one true person who loves me , who would go the extremes and lengths to show his care and love for me. Even if I am alone, I can do something terribly romantic and beautiful too. (well, I won't be alone, for my stuffed animals would be with me...)
A few weeks ago an idea popped into my head. I remember I was in the hospital, with mum, who lay there asleep. My mind drifted to images of someone, who throughout my difficult moments, and moments of pain and despair seems to have the ability to lift me up-- even if we have not talked for a long, long time. In my moments of despair, hopelessness, my mind somehow, wrongly or rightly, drifts to my ex...
I fantasised about us meeting again, how special that would be after all this time. Even more special after he told me, explicitly and implicitly, how much he misses me, how important I seem to be in his life.
He once told me about a dream of his, and that is to walk on the Brooklyn Bridge with the person he truly loves. My mind put that knowledge with the longing to see him again in a special setting. So I wrote him a card, told him where I'd be and when, and said if he truly feels what he tells me, perhaps we could meet there on Brooklyn Bridge.
It seemed like a simple plan. A beautiful and wonderfully romantic idea. Two people, who obviously have feelings for one another, who obviously miss one another so much, and who know deep down there is still some potential in developing something special and something lasting, meeting at a most romantic setting at a most romantic time (dusk). "Perhaps it could be a new dawn..." I wrote him.
At first he told me he'd like to be there, he can be there. This was a week ago. I fantasised about our meeting. I dreamed and smiled just at the thought of seeing him again on the bridge that is so meaningful to him.
A few days ago he wrote me and said the timing is bad, for he needs to arrange to move things out of his old apartment. I was disappointed, yet I still clung onto hope of perhaps being able to see him...
Now, right now, the original plan is supposed to fall into place. At this very moment, at dusk, on Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side. In my fantasies, I would stand on the bridge, stare out at the skyline of Manhattan. And suddenly out of nowhere he would find me and call out my name... We would look into one another's eyes, we would hug. I would kiss him. I would whisper softly in his ears: "I've missed you so much..."
But now, at this very moment, I am in a small-town in NJ. He is in Montreal (I believe). He told me there are no available flights. Hotels are prohibitively expensive (I agree). He tells me he is very apologetic he cannot be (t)here with me. And he offers me other places and opportunities to meet. But I am not interested.
How disappointed I truly am. All those moments I imagined him being my source of comfort and support, and now it's just a great letdown. I cannot and should not be too harsh on him. I cannot know how tired my ex is from his work and having to deal with the stress of moving over the weekend. I cannot imagine what he is thinking, what he is truly feeling, and whether he truly means what he says.
But where there is a will, there is a Wei, right? What would you do to prove to someone how much they mean to you? What extremes would you go to to show sincerity in your word and what you really mean when you tell someone you love him and have always loved him? I know what I would do. I know I would find a way, journey through the night if I must. Just spend an hour with that special someone, if it comes to that. But I would be there. I would seize the chance I have been given again, and prove I am true to my word, true to my heart...
I am here, in NJ. I will be in NYC tomorrow, on the bridge in the afternoon (2-4) just before my flight in the evening.
Even if I am alone, I owe it to myself to fulfil my dream of standing on the bridge and admiring the manhattan skyline. Even if alone, I can dream of one day standing there with the one true person who loves me , who would go the extremes and lengths to show his care and love for me. Even if I am alone, I can do something terribly romantic and beautiful too. (well, I won't be alone, for my stuffed animals would be with me...)
25 April 2012
Plan
Where do I get these crazy ideas?
Perhaps it's my way of escaping, of getting far, far away from reality by clinging onto some fantasy in my head that is comforting and familiar. And the idea involves my ex, who I tend to think about, especially in my darkest moments of despair, in my most testing moments of loneliness and desperation, without even intending...
Will it work out?
Is it too insane?
I have to get the 'balls' rolling and see how he will respond. Because how he responds will be a true test of whether he means what he says to me. Whether he will agree to meet me at a certain time or place will be real proof of how far he is willing to go to meet me...
Perhaps it's my way of escaping, of getting far, far away from reality by clinging onto some fantasy in my head that is comforting and familiar. And the idea involves my ex, who I tend to think about, especially in my darkest moments of despair, in my most testing moments of loneliness and desperation, without even intending...
Will it work out?
Is it too insane?
I have to get the 'balls' rolling and see how he will respond. Because how he responds will be a true test of whether he means what he says to me. Whether he will agree to meet me at a certain time or place will be real proof of how far he is willing to go to meet me...
18 April 2012
Dreamy afternoon
Having slept only a few hours at the hospital last night, because of very severe stomach cramps (I'm certain related to my uncle's passing and the conversations I had with mum about that...), I came home and wanted to take a nap. But the chance to accompany my little nephew to a children's clinic seemed too fun to miss, so I went with them.
It was pleasant to push my nephew around, pretending that I'm a dad. Of course, the real dad and mum walked behind me, hand in hand, and I was just an uncle trying to imagine what it's like to have a cute little child. As I pushed him around, I dreamed one day of having a child (or two?) of my own... How I could pamper the child, showed her/him with warmth, fun and love, teach him/her about life and the amazing things of this world. Somehow, imagining the conversation I would be having with my partner, like the ones my brother and sister-in-law have about raising the child ("He's sweating! He's too warm!" or "Oh, look at him crawl and flip over!" or "oh, look at him smiling!" or "Watch out! He's biting that thing he found on the floor!") made me smile and smile...
The doctor diagnosed my nephew with an inflammation of the intestines. Nothing too serious, but he'll need to cut down on trying out new foods for a few days. Just soupy rice and a bit of dried shredded pork and rice crackers for him now. And of course some prescribed medicine.
I was exhausted when we got back home at around ten in the morning, and dived into bed. I slept, but dreamed and dreamed a dozen dreams. I know my ex featured in one of them, but details are non-existent. I was even more tired when finally I woke up close to two.
I woke up to the sound of coughing and saw my brother and sister-in-law lie in their den. First my brother caught the cold, and now she's also hit the jackpot. Mum's in hospital, brother and his wife are ill, and so is my nephew.
I really need to be very careful...
It was pleasant to push my nephew around, pretending that I'm a dad. Of course, the real dad and mum walked behind me, hand in hand, and I was just an uncle trying to imagine what it's like to have a cute little child. As I pushed him around, I dreamed one day of having a child (or two?) of my own... How I could pamper the child, showed her/him with warmth, fun and love, teach him/her about life and the amazing things of this world. Somehow, imagining the conversation I would be having with my partner, like the ones my brother and sister-in-law have about raising the child ("He's sweating! He's too warm!" or "Oh, look at him crawl and flip over!" or "oh, look at him smiling!" or "Watch out! He's biting that thing he found on the floor!") made me smile and smile...
The doctor diagnosed my nephew with an inflammation of the intestines. Nothing too serious, but he'll need to cut down on trying out new foods for a few days. Just soupy rice and a bit of dried shredded pork and rice crackers for him now. And of course some prescribed medicine.
I was exhausted when we got back home at around ten in the morning, and dived into bed. I slept, but dreamed and dreamed a dozen dreams. I know my ex featured in one of them, but details are non-existent. I was even more tired when finally I woke up close to two.
I woke up to the sound of coughing and saw my brother and sister-in-law lie in their den. First my brother caught the cold, and now she's also hit the jackpot. Mum's in hospital, brother and his wife are ill, and so is my nephew.
I really need to be very careful...
07 April 2012
Dreams
Every time just as I'm about to fully fall asleep, I feel my body "sink" and I wake up woken up by the frightening degree of fear and chaos in my dream.
I have been lying here for half an hour or so, drifting in and out of consciousness. The images in my dreams can immobilise me, make me feel like I cannot move, cannot turn, and that makes me fill with such dread, such fear!
I'm afraid to fall asleep, yet so very tired. It's tortuous to be so afraid to sleep and be tormented by dreadful dreams.
I have been lying here for half an hour or so, drifting in and out of consciousness. The images in my dreams can immobilise me, make me feel like I cannot move, cannot turn, and that makes me fill with such dread, such fear!
I'm afraid to fall asleep, yet so very tired. It's tortuous to be so afraid to sleep and be tormented by dreadful dreams.
26 March 2012
Dream
So many, too many... Just images here and there that jump out now...
I was visiting my old student housing in London with a friend (though in real life I never had a friend like him...). I was just curious and wanted to see where I used to live. The security guy asked me my name, and found a huge package left behind full of things for my friend. They seem to be from an admirable, dozens of packaged food, some kind of egg package with vegetable inside (dreams don't have to make sense...), and there were also very expensive branded bags still in their original packaging...
We walked around the area, all these familiar parks and places I used to wander around by my self in while I was in London... Beautiful memories came back, then suddenly, the scene changed, and my friend was gone. U continued by myself, walked further and further until I came to an old part of town, which seemed like a ghost town... Ancient buildings were abandoned, the mood was eerie, and weather suddenly turned so terrible...
Another dream... I was with a friend, the person I went on a date with many years ago and have somehow recently reconnected to some extent. At the time when we met, it was unclear where we were going, but even then there were mutual feelings of some kind. But within a few months I began a new life abroad and nothing ever developed...
In the dream I was somewhere in the countryside with him, and we were walking side by side. Just talking, laughing and enjoying one anothers company. There was an intense attraction, and at one point I hugged him around the waist totally unexpectedly. I know it was me who made the initial move, but I felt very embarrassed and guilty afterwards, especially as he leaned in close to try to kiss me. I pulled back and said I can't. "I have someone already..."
That someone, in the dream, was my ex. For I saw his face in my dream, and that made me feel so guilty.
In yet another dream, one perhaps which does not take too much interpretation, I was in hospital with mum. She looked so sickly from afar, in much worse shape than she is in now. I walked in closer, and saw she had become so much thinner, her eyes were sunk deep into their sockets, her face so dry and so rough, her skin so unclean, her clothes seemingly unchanged for a long time... In one of her nostrils, there was a feeding tube sticking out (one very much like the one she is about to have inserted...)
She opened her eyes as I approached. It then then I saw she could not move. She was in a vegetative state... My heart broke seeing her like this. She said something so frailly I could not really catch her words. But I knew what she meant somehow. I think I've always known. Slowly I pulled the long, long feeding tube out of her nose...
So many dreams, so disturbed my sleep!
I was visiting my old student housing in London with a friend (though in real life I never had a friend like him...). I was just curious and wanted to see where I used to live. The security guy asked me my name, and found a huge package left behind full of things for my friend. They seem to be from an admirable, dozens of packaged food, some kind of egg package with vegetable inside (dreams don't have to make sense...), and there were also very expensive branded bags still in their original packaging...
We walked around the area, all these familiar parks and places I used to wander around by my self in while I was in London... Beautiful memories came back, then suddenly, the scene changed, and my friend was gone. U continued by myself, walked further and further until I came to an old part of town, which seemed like a ghost town... Ancient buildings were abandoned, the mood was eerie, and weather suddenly turned so terrible...
Another dream... I was with a friend, the person I went on a date with many years ago and have somehow recently reconnected to some extent. At the time when we met, it was unclear where we were going, but even then there were mutual feelings of some kind. But within a few months I began a new life abroad and nothing ever developed...
In the dream I was somewhere in the countryside with him, and we were walking side by side. Just talking, laughing and enjoying one anothers company. There was an intense attraction, and at one point I hugged him around the waist totally unexpectedly. I know it was me who made the initial move, but I felt very embarrassed and guilty afterwards, especially as he leaned in close to try to kiss me. I pulled back and said I can't. "I have someone already..."
That someone, in the dream, was my ex. For I saw his face in my dream, and that made me feel so guilty.
In yet another dream, one perhaps which does not take too much interpretation, I was in hospital with mum. She looked so sickly from afar, in much worse shape than she is in now. I walked in closer, and saw she had become so much thinner, her eyes were sunk deep into their sockets, her face so dry and so rough, her skin so unclean, her clothes seemingly unchanged for a long time... In one of her nostrils, there was a feeding tube sticking out (one very much like the one she is about to have inserted...)
She opened her eyes as I approached. It then then I saw she could not move. She was in a vegetative state... My heart broke seeing her like this. She said something so frailly I could not really catch her words. But I knew what she meant somehow. I think I've always known. Slowly I pulled the long, long feeding tube out of her nose...
So many dreams, so disturbed my sleep!
19 March 2012
Dreams
20032012.0547
Another night of dreams, another night of death lingering on my subconscious mind...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OvsVSWB4TI&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Another night of dreams, another night of death lingering on my subconscious mind...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OvsVSWB4TI&feature=youtube_gdata_player
18 March 2012
Dreams
18032012.1902
Death, death, I dream of mum's death whenever I close my eyes...
What is wrong with me? Why am I tormented by death and images of death...?
Death, death, I dream of mum's death whenever I close my eyes...
What is wrong with me? Why am I tormented by death and images of death...?
11 March 2012
Dreaming of dad
Mum spoke, so weakly for this is the way she speaks nowadays. "I dreamed of dad yesterday. We were so loving together, like old times. I said to him that I am unable to cook well now, but I asked him what he would like to eat..."
I listened with a quiet smile. I cried quietly even more. Mum misses dad deeply still, and perhaps in this very difficult stage, perhaps fearing that it is her final stage, she probably misses him even more, and is wondering why he is not around any more.
25 February 2012
Not worth it...
He's not worth the thoughts, the dreams, not worth the worry... Friends have said that to you already, they have warned you about him. He's not worth it, after the things he said, not after selfishly bragging about how he found his happiness in your greatest moment of despair. Remember how hurt you were, how hurt you still are if you think back...
Yes, he has been kind to you for a long, long time, and nobody has ever touched you so deeply. but when the time comes, he places his happiness before all else... Who wouldn't? Who can blame him? All we ever want is to be happy, and who can fault him for wanting what all men want: a chance at happiness, when you could not provide that, or provide enough of that to him?
Just let him go, let go of his thoughts, let go of his dreams... Has he not let go of you? Has he not vowed to "resolve" you before? So why are you still thinking of him and wondering how he's doing or whether he's hurting inside...?
But I do miss him... I miss him.
The original Rimi Natsukawa, 涙そうそう (Simmering tears)
Hayley Westenra, English version of "Nada Sousou"
Yes, he has been kind to you for a long, long time, and nobody has ever touched you so deeply. but when the time comes, he places his happiness before all else... Who wouldn't? Who can blame him? All we ever want is to be happy, and who can fault him for wanting what all men want: a chance at happiness, when you could not provide that, or provide enough of that to him?
Just let him go, let go of his thoughts, let go of his dreams... Has he not let go of you? Has he not vowed to "resolve" you before? So why are you still thinking of him and wondering how he's doing or whether he's hurting inside...?
But I do miss him... I miss him.
The original Rimi Natsukawa, 涙そうそう (Simmering tears)
Hayley Westenra, English version of "Nada Sousou"
20 February 2012
Today's the day
I lay next to mum on her bed. I could feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathe softly. The meditation music I put on in the background sent her off to sleep. I closed my eyes and meditated for a few moments...
"Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering... Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering..."
A last hour of my twenty-seventh year, and I was lucky to spend it lying next to mum. To think, so many, many years ago, I was still inside of her, I was still so very small, so innocent, so ignorant of the ways of the world. To think, so many, many years ago, mum was younger, stronger, and healthier. A simple cough would not make her vomit. She could go to work during the day, come home to cook, and take care of a husband and two children. She could go anywhere, do anything she wanted to at will. Now things are all different... I have grown up, I am for the most bit away from her, and she has grown old, grown ill, and slowly, slowly is losing control of the movement of her hands. Much of mum's waking moments are coping with pain, bearing the sores of her aged and ill body...
I opened my eyes and looked at mum's face.. how wrinkled it is, how much sweat and tears that face has shed over the years, and never for a moment did she complain anything was too hard, too unbearable. Instinctively, I reached over and stroked mum's hand... how wrinkled it felt, how much those fingers have worked and toiled over these two, three decades from the day I was born, to provide for me, to care for me, to love me in so many different, different ways...
"I have burdened you..." Perhaps my touch had woken her up. The meditation music reached a crescendo.
I closed my eyes and turned away. "Don't say that!" Mum perhaps does not realise how painful it is to hear that... Even if at times, I feel it, even at times I feel like my life has not been going anywhere because of the circumstances she is facing, it still is very painful to hear mum say that. I know being by her side for so long has greatly tested my patience, and there are moments I have been impatient, I have been rude to her, I have been frustrated and angry at her, I have perhaps made her disappointed and feel pressured to "get better" when she is not getting better... Even so, I am just trying, trying to cope, trying to do the best I can and with what I know. Even if mum were a "burden", what am I supposed to do? Just leave her on her own when she cannot even properly use utensils, let alone cook for herself? Just leave her when she has so little will to go outdoors, and everyday looks so sad and depressed? "You are my mother! How can you say that?" I closed my eyes even tighter.
I can only do what I can do. And nowadays it feels like I am able to do so helplessly little, which pains me, which frustrates me greatly. For growing up, mum could always make me feel safe... growing up, mum could always heal my wounds, and make me feel better again. And yet now, I am unable to do the same for her. I cannot make her feel better. I cannot make her better, whatever I do.
"I'm worried..." mum said faintly, and coughed. Her closed eyes squinted, a sign she was in pain.
"Worried about what?" I played with the heat packs I had just removed from boiling water. The packs are supposed to ease the soreness around mum's shoulders and neck, and are supposed to help her sleep easier.
"About you. Brother is already married, but you..." she strained to speak. The four sessions of CyberKnife treatment, though swift and seemingly painless, have as expected damaged her throat even further. Her throat has become swollen, and when she coughs, there is yellow phlegm.
I closed my eyes, as if in closing them, the lingering sadness can be shut aside. If not, at least the tears that threatened to seep out could be shut inside. Mothers worry about their children, that cannot be changed, and especially Asian mothers worry about their children's marriage. Even in her state of discomfort and pain, or perhaps exactly because of that, mum's mind is still preoccupied with me and my life.
"I cannot control love or who loves me..." I said, "However much I wish to have someone in my life, I have no influence over that..." I was again reminded of the conversation mum and I shared on my 'real' birthday, the one my parents remember mainly, two weeks ago. Mum asked about my ex, but I did not want to go into details. All I said was that I have not spoken to him much for two months, and that I hope he is happy.
"Why don't you think of yourself? I am still young, I have a life ahead of me. But what about you? Why spend you time worrying about me, worrying things I have no say or influence over, when you could spend time thinking about what you want to do with your life?" I held mum's hand. I have said this to her so many times, and I know deep down she too wants to plan her life after retirement, I know deep down she too wants to enjoy her life as best as she can. But the physical is a huge obstacle standing in the way, and nobody can really understand how much she hurts, how much she is so weakened and so burdened by her deteriorating health and having to hear again and again that the cancer is spreading... As she said to me once or twice, "You're not the one with cancer..."
We were silent for a few moments. Mum closed her eyes. The music continued playing. I looked at her, at her aged faced, at her wild, uncombed grey hair. I looked at her nose, her lips, her chin, her cheeks ever so closely... Have you ever really looked at someone you love and care about from so close? Have you ever looked at your own dear mother from so close?
I see my dear, brave mother, see her age, I see her slowly grow weaker and more ill by the day. How far we have come together all these years... how much longer and further can we journey together in this life?
Can I again take her traveling and can I again show her the world and its many beauties? Can I fulfill her dream of finding a partner with whom I can settle down for life, so that she may leave this world at ease? I stroked her hand, softer and gentler this time, for fear of waking her again, like I did before.
Just as I thought she was already asleep, "Thank you for everything..."
What’s the trouble on your mind? 你在煩惱什麼
(translation mine)
There is no flower that will not wilt,
There is no tide that will not retreat,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no scar that will not fade,
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
Time will never reply,
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment,
I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
"Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering... Peace, happiness, freedom from suffering..."
A last hour of my twenty-seventh year, and I was lucky to spend it lying next to mum. To think, so many, many years ago, I was still inside of her, I was still so very small, so innocent, so ignorant of the ways of the world. To think, so many, many years ago, mum was younger, stronger, and healthier. A simple cough would not make her vomit. She could go to work during the day, come home to cook, and take care of a husband and two children. She could go anywhere, do anything she wanted to at will. Now things are all different... I have grown up, I am for the most bit away from her, and she has grown old, grown ill, and slowly, slowly is losing control of the movement of her hands. Much of mum's waking moments are coping with pain, bearing the sores of her aged and ill body...
I opened my eyes and looked at mum's face.. how wrinkled it is, how much sweat and tears that face has shed over the years, and never for a moment did she complain anything was too hard, too unbearable. Instinctively, I reached over and stroked mum's hand... how wrinkled it felt, how much those fingers have worked and toiled over these two, three decades from the day I was born, to provide for me, to care for me, to love me in so many different, different ways...
"I have burdened you..." Perhaps my touch had woken her up. The meditation music reached a crescendo.
I closed my eyes and turned away. "Don't say that!" Mum perhaps does not realise how painful it is to hear that... Even if at times, I feel it, even at times I feel like my life has not been going anywhere because of the circumstances she is facing, it still is very painful to hear mum say that. I know being by her side for so long has greatly tested my patience, and there are moments I have been impatient, I have been rude to her, I have been frustrated and angry at her, I have perhaps made her disappointed and feel pressured to "get better" when she is not getting better... Even so, I am just trying, trying to cope, trying to do the best I can and with what I know. Even if mum were a "burden", what am I supposed to do? Just leave her on her own when she cannot even properly use utensils, let alone cook for herself? Just leave her when she has so little will to go outdoors, and everyday looks so sad and depressed? "You are my mother! How can you say that?" I closed my eyes even tighter.
I can only do what I can do. And nowadays it feels like I am able to do so helplessly little, which pains me, which frustrates me greatly. For growing up, mum could always make me feel safe... growing up, mum could always heal my wounds, and make me feel better again. And yet now, I am unable to do the same for her. I cannot make her feel better. I cannot make her better, whatever I do.
"I'm worried..." mum said faintly, and coughed. Her closed eyes squinted, a sign she was in pain.
"Worried about what?" I played with the heat packs I had just removed from boiling water. The packs are supposed to ease the soreness around mum's shoulders and neck, and are supposed to help her sleep easier.
"About you. Brother is already married, but you..." she strained to speak. The four sessions of CyberKnife treatment, though swift and seemingly painless, have as expected damaged her throat even further. Her throat has become swollen, and when she coughs, there is yellow phlegm.
I closed my eyes, as if in closing them, the lingering sadness can be shut aside. If not, at least the tears that threatened to seep out could be shut inside. Mothers worry about their children, that cannot be changed, and especially Asian mothers worry about their children's marriage. Even in her state of discomfort and pain, or perhaps exactly because of that, mum's mind is still preoccupied with me and my life.
"I cannot control love or who loves me..." I said, "However much I wish to have someone in my life, I have no influence over that..." I was again reminded of the conversation mum and I shared on my 'real' birthday, the one my parents remember mainly, two weeks ago. Mum asked about my ex, but I did not want to go into details. All I said was that I have not spoken to him much for two months, and that I hope he is happy.
"Why don't you think of yourself? I am still young, I have a life ahead of me. But what about you? Why spend you time worrying about me, worrying things I have no say or influence over, when you could spend time thinking about what you want to do with your life?" I held mum's hand. I have said this to her so many times, and I know deep down she too wants to plan her life after retirement, I know deep down she too wants to enjoy her life as best as she can. But the physical is a huge obstacle standing in the way, and nobody can really understand how much she hurts, how much she is so weakened and so burdened by her deteriorating health and having to hear again and again that the cancer is spreading... As she said to me once or twice, "You're not the one with cancer..."
We were silent for a few moments. Mum closed her eyes. The music continued playing. I looked at her, at her aged faced, at her wild, uncombed grey hair. I looked at her nose, her lips, her chin, her cheeks ever so closely... Have you ever really looked at someone you love and care about from so close? Have you ever looked at your own dear mother from so close?
I see my dear, brave mother, see her age, I see her slowly grow weaker and more ill by the day. How far we have come together all these years... how much longer and further can we journey together in this life?
Can I again take her traveling and can I again show her the world and its many beauties? Can I fulfill her dream of finding a partner with whom I can settle down for life, so that she may leave this world at ease? I stroked her hand, softer and gentler this time, for fear of waking her again, like I did before.
Just as I thought she was already asleep, "Thank you for everything..."
What’s the trouble on your mind? 你在煩惱什麼
(translation mine)
There is no flower that will not wilt,
There is no tide that will not retreat,
There is no light that will not darken,
What’s the trouble on your mind?
There is no scar that will not fade,
There is no wound that will not heal,
There is no despair that will not stop,
What are you being melancholic about?
Time will never reply,
Life will never make a turmoil,
Even if there is only one moment,
I am not afraid,
It is that one moment that makes up forever…
14 February 2012
Wish
I've had this wish for many years. And for some reason the desire to fulfill this wish is stronger than ever before. Is it this movie I just watched? Or this website I just encountered?
I want to bike around Taiwan.
A distance of around 1000km, which some have done in around 10 days. It seems like a daunting challenge, physical and also mental. And will I be able to do it? I know I do need a challenge now, because the past months, caught between mum's deteriorating condition and the end of the deepest relationship I've ever had, has caused me to become very down and lethargic. I need a challenge to prove to myself that I can achieve something if I set my hear to it. I need a challenge to prove to myself, and partly also to the world, that I can be active, I can be alive.
For a while now, I've felt so useless and rejected, so lost and aimless. Being here with mum, having to tend to her needs and watching her become so weak and so ill, has also drained the life and enthusiasm for life out of me. If I can do this trip, if I can with my own two legs cycle around the island, overcome steep inclines, rough road conditions, fight against the noise and oppression of road traffic, then I have a reason, I have more reason, to believe that I can do anything.
And I need a reason right now, to live, to continue, to hope and to dream...
I really do. Because frankly, I feel as if I am dying, like I am merely surviving from day to day, looking forward to sleep and escape, and not looking forward to waking up or anything that will take much effort. And this is not me. I know this is not who I am, but I have somehow become like this, or allowed myself to become like this... And I need to prove to myself, and to the world, that this lethargic, exhausted and hidden boy is not the real me. The real me needs to break out from the troubles and burdens life has laden on top of me. The real me needs and can break free!
I need a reason to pick myself again, a reason to be proud of myself, a reason to look back and smile about. A reason to prove to myself I can set myself a challenge and accomplish that challenge.
And what beautiful scenery I will see along the way... what sense of joy I will experience from experience true Formosa at its finest and with the power of my own body!
I want to bike around Taiwan.
A distance of around 1000km, which some have done in around 10 days. It seems like a daunting challenge, physical and also mental. And will I be able to do it? I know I do need a challenge now, because the past months, caught between mum's deteriorating condition and the end of the deepest relationship I've ever had, has caused me to become very down and lethargic. I need a challenge to prove to myself that I can achieve something if I set my hear to it. I need a challenge to prove to myself, and partly also to the world, that I can be active, I can be alive.
For a while now, I've felt so useless and rejected, so lost and aimless. Being here with mum, having to tend to her needs and watching her become so weak and so ill, has also drained the life and enthusiasm for life out of me. If I can do this trip, if I can with my own two legs cycle around the island, overcome steep inclines, rough road conditions, fight against the noise and oppression of road traffic, then I have a reason, I have more reason, to believe that I can do anything.
And I need a reason right now, to live, to continue, to hope and to dream...
I really do. Because frankly, I feel as if I am dying, like I am merely surviving from day to day, looking forward to sleep and escape, and not looking forward to waking up or anything that will take much effort. And this is not me. I know this is not who I am, but I have somehow become like this, or allowed myself to become like this... And I need to prove to myself, and to the world, that this lethargic, exhausted and hidden boy is not the real me. The real me needs to break out from the troubles and burdens life has laden on top of me. The real me needs and can break free!
I need a reason to pick myself again, a reason to be proud of myself, a reason to look back and smile about. A reason to prove to myself I can set myself a challenge and accomplish that challenge.
And what beautiful scenery I will see along the way... what sense of joy I will experience from experience true Formosa at its finest and with the power of my own body!
12 February 2012
A quiet moment
A quiet day today. In the morning we went to the sports park for a breath of fresh air, for the weather was unusually clear and bright for this city at this time of the year. That clear spell lasted only an hour or so, then it became gloomy and grey again.
Mum kept on insisting that we go out for a big meal to celebrate, but I didn't want to. The last time we went for a meal, we had to pack everything up half-way through the meal because mum was gagging and about to vomit. While fixing dinner, mum said I should eat long noodles, like I did last year, for the longer the noodles, the longer your life is said will be.
"I don't want a long life," I said, "Just a happy one". What's the point of a long life if you're miserable and suffering, whether physical pain or emotional torment? All I could hope for is a happy life, filled with love and care and kindness. Of course that all depends how I live my life, and how I choose to perceive life. Maybe a nice warm home, and a devoted, loving, caring person to go back home to every day. But that is perhaps asking too much. Just a happy life is enough.
I went to the bookstore after dinner to pick up new books to read. Reading is perhaps the one thing I can really concentrate on doing here, the one thing I can do relatively well amid the turbulent and upsetting circumstances surrounding mum's health condition nowadays. While browsing, I spotted a book that might prove useful for a personal challenge that I'm planning in the coming period-- if mum's condition permits me to go ahead.
When I got home, mum was getting ready for bed. On the nurse's recommendation, I warmed up some heat packs and placed them on her bed, for they are supposed to aid sleep. I lay down next to her, and she stroked my head a bit. Mum's hair has greyed plenty since the surgery. Her hands have somehow become very wrinkled and dry, her fingers trembling slightly. The coarseness of mum's voice still reminds me much of an old witch...
She began telling me about a conversation she had with my brother earlier. "It's good to see him happily married, and to have a new family to care for him." I had an idea where this was going. And I was right.
"I only wish you had someone too," she said quietly, straining a little as her voice is still very coarse and fragile, "When I am gone, I hope you will have a new mum and dad to care for you..." I closed my eyes, and imagined what they would look like... "They would be lucky to have a son like you..." I closed my eyes also to stop the tears from escaping.
Mum continued. "I am so fortunate. The surgery saved me in time, or otherwise I would have become paralysed for life. That is perhaps worse than death..." She recounted how waking up for the first time after the anesthetic wore off on 28 December she was so relieved she could feel and move her legs and arms. "It was like I was born again..." I was not there to witness that, to see the expression on her face when she came to and realised that she can move her body at will. I only managed to arrive a couple of hours later.
I lay next to mum and buried my head face down on a pillow. I said nothing as she continued. "If I think about it, I have no regrets..." It was not the first time mum said this, but it was the first time after her major surgery. The first time after many references to wanting to end her life because the soreness and pains after the surgery is tormenting her body and mind, and keeping her awake at night. "Dad was so thrift and hard on himself, and he left me with money for treatment," she said, sniffing, "And I am so lucky to have a son who cares so much." I closed my eyes even tighter. "Which boy would rush home and take care of his mother like you do?"
"I just want you to be well," I managed to say, "As the doctor said, it's the quality of life that matters..." Yes, why would you want to live on and on and live a life full of regrets, full of waking fears and dormant feelings of guilt and "what ifs", full of physical pain and discomfort? And like that couple in the movie we watched earlier together, when there is limited time and space to live, live and do pursuing a dream, living a dream. All the rest matters so very little. So very, very little.
I do not know how long mum will be around... I cannot guarantee that I can have success in my career or have the wonderful partner and caring in-laws that she would like me to have when she is no longer around. But here and now, I can try, and try, and try again to do everything I can to make her feel comfortable, to make her feel loved. There is nothing else I would do less, there is nothing more I could do less than be by her side as long as I can as she takes this slow, slow journey to recover her strength and 'old' self. Perhaps she may never recover, never be her old self, the strong, brave woman, mother and wife I now she once was. But in my mind, she will always be my dear, brave mother.
My dear, brave mother who gave birth to me twenty eight years ago.
Mum kept on insisting that we go out for a big meal to celebrate, but I didn't want to. The last time we went for a meal, we had to pack everything up half-way through the meal because mum was gagging and about to vomit. While fixing dinner, mum said I should eat long noodles, like I did last year, for the longer the noodles, the longer your life is said will be.
"I don't want a long life," I said, "Just a happy one". What's the point of a long life if you're miserable and suffering, whether physical pain or emotional torment? All I could hope for is a happy life, filled with love and care and kindness. Of course that all depends how I live my life, and how I choose to perceive life. Maybe a nice warm home, and a devoted, loving, caring person to go back home to every day. But that is perhaps asking too much. Just a happy life is enough.
I went to the bookstore after dinner to pick up new books to read. Reading is perhaps the one thing I can really concentrate on doing here, the one thing I can do relatively well amid the turbulent and upsetting circumstances surrounding mum's health condition nowadays. While browsing, I spotted a book that might prove useful for a personal challenge that I'm planning in the coming period-- if mum's condition permits me to go ahead.
When I got home, mum was getting ready for bed. On the nurse's recommendation, I warmed up some heat packs and placed them on her bed, for they are supposed to aid sleep. I lay down next to her, and she stroked my head a bit. Mum's hair has greyed plenty since the surgery. Her hands have somehow become very wrinkled and dry, her fingers trembling slightly. The coarseness of mum's voice still reminds me much of an old witch...
She began telling me about a conversation she had with my brother earlier. "It's good to see him happily married, and to have a new family to care for him." I had an idea where this was going. And I was right.
"I only wish you had someone too," she said quietly, straining a little as her voice is still very coarse and fragile, "When I am gone, I hope you will have a new mum and dad to care for you..." I closed my eyes, and imagined what they would look like... "They would be lucky to have a son like you..." I closed my eyes also to stop the tears from escaping.
Mum continued. "I am so fortunate. The surgery saved me in time, or otherwise I would have become paralysed for life. That is perhaps worse than death..." She recounted how waking up for the first time after the anesthetic wore off on 28 December she was so relieved she could feel and move her legs and arms. "It was like I was born again..." I was not there to witness that, to see the expression on her face when she came to and realised that she can move her body at will. I only managed to arrive a couple of hours later.
I lay next to mum and buried my head face down on a pillow. I said nothing as she continued. "If I think about it, I have no regrets..." It was not the first time mum said this, but it was the first time after her major surgery. The first time after many references to wanting to end her life because the soreness and pains after the surgery is tormenting her body and mind, and keeping her awake at night. "Dad was so thrift and hard on himself, and he left me with money for treatment," she said, sniffing, "And I am so lucky to have a son who cares so much." I closed my eyes even tighter. "Which boy would rush home and take care of his mother like you do?"
"I just want you to be well," I managed to say, "As the doctor said, it's the quality of life that matters..." Yes, why would you want to live on and on and live a life full of regrets, full of waking fears and dormant feelings of guilt and "what ifs", full of physical pain and discomfort? And like that couple in the movie we watched earlier together, when there is limited time and space to live, live and do pursuing a dream, living a dream. All the rest matters so very little. So very, very little.
I do not know how long mum will be around... I cannot guarantee that I can have success in my career or have the wonderful partner and caring in-laws that she would like me to have when she is no longer around. But here and now, I can try, and try, and try again to do everything I can to make her feel comfortable, to make her feel loved. There is nothing else I would do less, there is nothing more I could do less than be by her side as long as I can as she takes this slow, slow journey to recover her strength and 'old' self. Perhaps she may never recover, never be her old self, the strong, brave woman, mother and wife I now she once was. But in my mind, she will always be my dear, brave mother.
My dear, brave mother who gave birth to me twenty eight years ago.
26 January 2012
Fearing death?
I didn't think it bothered me before, death, but the past few nights, I would suddenly stir from my sleep, as I just did now, tormented by images of death...
Of mum dying.
I thought I was not afraid, not afraid of losing the dearest person, of losing the only true source of support, in my life right now. but the images in my sleeping mind tell me otherwise.
Four thirty in the morning, and I am awake... Tired and wanting to sleep, but cannot. Why this sudden obsession of my mind with death? Is it because of the news earlier this week that my ex's grandmother passed away? Is it because my cousin last night told me that my uncle's nearing the final days of his life...? Or is it because of what I told my mum yesterday, when I suggested to her to stop all treatment once and for all?
I see images of mum dying, horribly dying... And what bothers me most is that I see to be watching without any feelings in these images and dreams. Why does it not bother me?
I truly am losing it... Losing control of my mind, losing control of my thoughts and fears...
15 January 2012
Nap
A rare afternoon home, together with mum, who took "leave" from the hospital. We live so close to the hospital, and mum just wants to be home to rest and feel more... "at home", instead of just lie there in the hospital bed and do nothing...
I was exhausted. Over two weeks of accumulated fatigue and worry has really drained me physically and mentally. Even yesterday, when I accompanied mum to a massage, the masseur said my back is terribly misshaped, and that there is something wrong with my liver-- all due to exhaustion. I must rest more, and rest better.
So nap I did... and I had so much difficulty waking up.I There were so many dreams... I was flying, flying on a mop, in my neighbourhood back in Canada. I could see the big-box shops and familiar shop names, and I kept jumping from roof to roof, trying to avoid trees and tall buildings. It was an extremely terrifying experience, yet also I felt so free. All the worry, all the sights and sounds of the hospital ward, where I have been spending so much time every day, were gone... I was just flying, flying, freely flying...
There was another dream, this time with mum in it, and we were together on a long distance train. She was with me in the berth at one moment, admiring the scenery outside the window, and the next she disappeared. I could not find her, and panicked. Under the seats were her shoes and a large blanket which belonged to her. I picked them up, and went from carriage to carriage looking for her. At one moment, I noticed the train was slowing down, and for some reason we were arriving in Brussels...
I woke up, curled up in a fetal position, feeling so very vulnerable, and held onto myself. I could just burst into tears from the deep, deep sense of loneliness that suddenly overcame me after waking up.
And it was then that the phone rang.
I was exhausted. Over two weeks of accumulated fatigue and worry has really drained me physically and mentally. Even yesterday, when I accompanied mum to a massage, the masseur said my back is terribly misshaped, and that there is something wrong with my liver-- all due to exhaustion. I must rest more, and rest better.
So nap I did... and I had so much difficulty waking up.I There were so many dreams... I was flying, flying on a mop, in my neighbourhood back in Canada. I could see the big-box shops and familiar shop names, and I kept jumping from roof to roof, trying to avoid trees and tall buildings. It was an extremely terrifying experience, yet also I felt so free. All the worry, all the sights and sounds of the hospital ward, where I have been spending so much time every day, were gone... I was just flying, flying, freely flying...
There was another dream, this time with mum in it, and we were together on a long distance train. She was with me in the berth at one moment, admiring the scenery outside the window, and the next she disappeared. I could not find her, and panicked. Under the seats were her shoes and a large blanket which belonged to her. I picked them up, and went from carriage to carriage looking for her. At one moment, I noticed the train was slowing down, and for some reason we were arriving in Brussels...
I woke up, curled up in a fetal position, feeling so very vulnerable, and held onto myself. I could just burst into tears from the deep, deep sense of loneliness that suddenly overcame me after waking up.
And it was then that the phone rang.
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