but, I can't. I really can't.
I left the house for the first time in about 6 months. My mother has asked me to do a quilt class here in Virginia for the ladies of my church. I said I would, so for the past months I have had 2 pairs of ladies come over and we do one step in the process. It helps me to have some kind of social interaction. Two of the ladies have finished their tops and we needed to put the layers together, which meant going to a bigger space to deal with the large pieces of fabric. When I learned how to put the layers together, it was a horrible process of pinning with hundreds of safety pins, it took hours to get one quilt ready. As I have learned my craft, I have come up with time saving tricks. It is funny trying to teach these ladies how to quilt because I try to explain to them what is me and what is standered for the craft. I shrug my shoulders realizing that I am giving to much information and so I smile and try to get the project done. Anyway, I have an adhesive spray now to put the top, batting and backing together. It only took us a couple hours to put Two quilts together, but it requires a lot of moving. We were hungry and went out to dinner after. That was it. That was all I did.
I came home and was in the worst amount of pain. I don't cry and this pain put me on the verge of tears. Think of the cramps woman have monthly and multiply it. I could hardly believe the level of hurt I was experiencing. It took two days to pass and I haven't been right since, so I am putting up a piece of writing that I did back in 2003.
This was a dream, one of many I have recorded. I started writing my dreams down in 1998. Before then someone I knew would be interested in my dreams, so I would spend time between classes telling of the extremely real, extremely weird dream I had the night before.
My dreams were so vivid and so filled with emotions I had never felt before that I was really, really interested in the dream world and the perceptions of it, but I was so disappointed in all of the "literature" on the subject. They just had lists of things with possible meanings, but they never fit with what I had dreamed. I mean dreaming that you have a tiny baby named "blueberry" is not a normal occurrence, or dreaming you are an international spy being chased by Arnold Schwarzenegger on a ski slope isn't on the list. There was no World Wide Web back then or at lest not like it is now and I was never able to pursue or even find those interested in the science of dreams.
In 1998 I was on my mission and having some doosie of a movie going on in my head, but no one wanted to listen, so in response to their objections I began writing my dreams down. It happened by accident. I was in a store with my companion and I saw a dream journal for sale. It was much too expensive, so I bought a cheap 5 dollar book, put sun and moon stickers all over it and wrote my dream down. I continued writing when a dream really struck me. In about 10 years I managed to fill 4 average journals with intense emotion filled dreams.
The dreams have stopped now. Once in a while one will sneak through like a couple of months ago when I dreamed that the devil was tricking people to sign over their souls through their cell phone contracts. That was quite the "Twilight Zone" episode in my head.
Here is just a touch of what I experience in these nocturnal movies.
I was getting ready, washing clothes,
trying to take a shower, and over all of the mundane actions there was an
oppressive feeling of powerlessness. He
was just in the next room. I loved him, but for my life, I could not think of
any words to speak. Each time I passed the doorway I would glance at him
sitting by the computer and each time I would step into the doorway ready to
talk, but I would stop. Ending up
instead with a sharp intake of breathe, letting the words die in my mouth in
reaction to the invisible wall I would hit.
Was it fear? My body refused to
go any closer to him. I knew then, that
I wasn’t only getting ready physically, but also emotionally. He was leaving and tonight we were saying
good-bye.
The hours passed. He was separating from our group, from me, on
the corner of a busy city. No one
stopped to glance our way as we huddled together, not wanting to start the
farewell. He was only steps away, but to
me, he was already gone. I wasn’t going
to do it. I wasn’t going to go near him. I pulled myself, my heart back. Trying to hide, I took a step away, but he
caught my eye. My heart, encased in its
ice of protection, began to beat like it had when I first met him. The ice broke. I shuffled towards his form, my feet feeling heavy
as lead, my numb arms wrapped around his tiny waist. I laid my spinning head on his heaving chest,
listening to the dancing beat of his heart.
Every barrier disappeared. All
the world was gone, as on the corner of a busy city, we became one. Our bodies communicating what our feeble
brains and tongues could never realize.
It was then the soft words filled my ears. “Becky, I love you.” Instead of happiness or relief, a deep
sadness overwhelmed me. “Do you mean
that?” ”I love you more then any person could.” He said these words as he transfixed me with
his brilliant eyes. He loved me. I loved him.
It didn’t matter. Our embrace
ended. I watched as he walked away and
disappeared into the crowds.
We loved each other. He still left. I knew
he was unable to give up his other life.
I awoke with this dream playing over and over in the confines
of my mind, the emotions as raw and as real as if I had really experienced the
event.
That was a very real dream. We spoke about this but I never knew how real the dream was. You still amaze me how eloquent you are in writing. I am sorry you hurt so much doing what you enjoy. Those ladies don't know how lucky they are to have you teaching them. I loved learning the around the world quilt with you. You are an amazing teacher. I hope that hasn't changed with all the pain. Good luck.
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I used to have very amazing dreams and I miss them. I spent along time trying to write that one down correctly, the feelings were so intense and by writing it down I was able to kind of interperate it. It is just so mind bending to think I felt that heart wrending love for someone in a dream and not in real life. I can not point to feeling even a fraction of that love in real life, so strange.
As for the pain it makes it so I am not very nice. I can keep it together for the lessons, but after I am so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open. These woman are very lucky, but none of them realize it.
I am sorry that they do not realize it. I understand not showing it though. I wish I could just shake them and tell them what a treasure your way of quilting is. I miss your tips and tricks. I tried to recreate your binding and I just gave up. Back to the hard way for me.
DeleteHey in case I don't get off my butt and call there is this book you might enjoy. It is called Evermore by Alyson Noël. It reminds me of some of our conversations. The first book can stand alone but leaves you wanting to read the 2nd. Jessi says it is the best book ever written. It was a fun read but I would not say the very best. Just remember she is now a teen and everything that has high school kids is the best ever written. It may lead to a fun conversation later though. The second is not able to stand alone in my opinion. The second is only an OK read and the 3rd is getting a bit repetitious. I can't quite seem to finish it. But the first might really strike your interest or totally make you mad. Just don't judge the main boy character til you finish it. He is not just who you think he is. It was pleasant surprise for me. Let me know if you read it. I would like to get your opinion on it.
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ReplyDeleteBecky, I wrote a reply to this last night on my iPad, but when I pressed publish, it disappeared. I'll try again with the desktop computer. I just wanted to tell you that your story of the dream was beautifully written. It was also heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteI've been praying for your health a lot lately, so reading about the pain-inducing quilting expedition really brought out the protective Auntie in me. I know I'm just watching from the sidelines, but I wish I could tell everyone that you've already gone way beyond the call of duty. You might say the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, and it sucks [not a word I use, btw, but nothing else gets the point across].
Speaking of the flesh being weak, I have to get up early tomorrow, so this night owl would be smart to go to bed!
Love and prayers,
Sharman
I don't complain very much it doesn't matter in my family. My parents have never been very compassinate about sickness. I am not very good with it either, but in my home if you make a complaint then be prepared to hear a competing list of aches. I only mentioned it in my post to give a sense of prespective.
DeleteI am glad you like how I wrote the dream. It was very overwhelming and I have tried to covey the feelings. An interesting fact, I recognized the boy in my dream and figured out the core of the dream. I met the boy while going to Fashion Design college. He was apart of the Homosexual group that I fell into. He was different than the other boys in the groups. I only interacted with him a couple of times and he helped me find my apartment! I really liked him, but he was so desperate to be loved he would do anything. I saw others take advantage of him and I didn't like it, but I knew that he was not ready to accept anything else. He really wasn't ready to accept anything from a female.
That makes sense about your dream--as I reread the story with that new bit of info in mind, it became very clear. Did you find that gay guys made good buddies for girls? (Like your cousin Caroline's friend from school). In my experience, they are often sweet and sensitive and tend to treat girls as people rather than objects. Unfortunately, all those loveable qualities can lead to romantic attraction on the girls' part, and then it's painful, as you discovered. It used to be that truly well meaning church leaders (and not just in our church) would encourage gays to keep their feelings to themselves and to marry girls as a "cure", but mostly that just led to heartache and divorce. They don't give that kind of advice anymore.
ReplyDeleteThe description of your pains reminded me of how I felt when I had a tubal pregnancy many years ago. I was curled up in a ball and couldn't move. Brent had to carry me to the car like that to get me to the hospital. I cringed when I thought of you dealing with something probably worse than that for as long as you did. I hope it hasn't (and will not) come back. You need your energy to do things you want to do, not to expend fighting pain.
Love,
Sharman
Well, that was why the dream was so interesting to me. I did not have any romantic feelings within the group. I was known as a "Fruit Fly" or "Fag Hag". It is common for the guys to be friends with girls that have emotional problems or baggage. For me, I had never meet a group of people that were so loving, not even at church. I can home from school during the weekends, so confused how I could feel so welcome by them. I loved each one of those boys, but they were in terrible emotional pain and the longer I was in the group the more I learned of their awful behavior to cover the pain. I learned pretty quickly that their was a hevey cost for that love, it felt like their presence sucked all the light and goodness from me. I asked that they not do certain things around me, but they were intent on corrupting. I don't even know if they realized it. I walked away forever changed by them.
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