If you go way back and look at my archives for this journal, you’ll see that I imported a bunch of my posts from an old LJ of mine. I kept that LJ mainly for recording my dreams, my pagan experiences and my self-betterment stuff (the artist’s way, therapy, diets, work outs, etc…). There was a time when I noticed things around me, and wrote down patterns that I picked up so that I could ponder their significance later (for instance, bees, as discussed in this imported post and in my tattoo post)
Maybe it’s that the fog lifted a bit yesterday, or maybe it’s because I’m looking for something to be significant, but it’s been one of those days.
Last night I had a dream about Mum and Dad. This isn’t unusual, though lately I must say I haven’t had many. In this dream, Mum and Dad wouldn’t leave the house in Orleans. It had already been purchased by the new family and I was stopping by one last time to make sure everything was ok before signing the closing documents. I arrived at the house to find it was completely furnished still. I was confused, knowing that I had emptied the house. It was all the furniture I could remember from my childhood. The ugly giant sectional that lived in the basement when I was a teen. The beige pullout couch that was scratchy that came from our place in Winnipeg. Old things that I haven’t seen in years. I found Dad in the kitchen, reading a paper. I asked him why he was still there and he gave me a look like I was being ridiculous and said “Because, Pooh Bear, this is home. Where else would I be?” I tried to argue with him, but he just didn’t listen.
I went upstairs to find it set up similarly. Everything was the way it was when I was growing up. My room at the front of the house was set up like it was when I was a teen. Covered in posters and anime crap. The middle room was set up for the nanny I had when I was 5. Tracy’s room was pink, and set up as though she and I were still sharing it. I walked into Mum’s room and it looked like it was full of stuff. Some covered in protective blankets. Boxes everywhere, like someone was packing up and leaving things behind, but protected from the dust/etc… There were spider webs in the corners of the room, and dust starting to settle on things. I found Mum sitting on the edge of her bed, packing a bag. I asked her what she was doing and she looked up to me, surprised to see me “Oh, thanks for coming dear. I need some help going through these things.” she said. I told her, gently, that we had to go. She asked me where. I told her “Mum, this place has sold, remember? We have to have it completely cleaned out for the new owners by midnight”. She looked confused and upset. “But this is my home. Our home.” she said. I told her that it wasn’t our home anymore, that we needed to leave so that the new family could move in. “But why are we leaving? This is our home!” she exclaimed. I replied “Mum, we need to move on. We need to go. We have so much packing and cleaning to do”. She refused and told me that she wanted to stay in her home.
I woke up, upset. I know part of this is from a blog that was linked in a post I read on Rav a couple of days ago about someone who moved into the house they just bought to find the previous owners still living there. I woke up feeling like Mum and Dad are still attached to the house, and that thought breaks my heart.
This morning, on my way to work, I was surprised by some very ballsy crows. They were sitting at the end of a neighbour’s driveway, chittering at me as I passed. I was only a couple feet away and they didn’t move or freak out at all. I nodded at them, as I normally do when I come close to a crow and they both continued to watch me, and squawked at me when I turned the corner. For some reason, something about it stuck with me. When I got to work, I read this post by Porcelain Heart Ivory Tooth (and commented) and then one of the LSG girls posted this article on Google +. Obviously, today has picked up something of a theme.
I think sometimes the universe forces us to deal with things, whether we want to or not. Symbols, totems and shamanism has been on my mind lately so maybe that’s why this is starting up again. Maybe I’m looking for it. This camping trip this weekend is bringing up some old hurts. An ex friend of mine used to take me camping in the same area, and the last time I was there I had some really interesting experiences with birds (specifically hummingbirds, a blue heron and some ducks). Today, I feel like Death is sitting my shadow, following me around. Forcing me to deal with it.
I don’t talk about this much because it tends to worry people, but I’ve had PTSD for a while now, which includes flashbacks. Lately I’ve been getting lots of them. Anything seems to trigger them, often just a cycle of thoughts that somehow brings me to either my Mum, Dad or the big fight with my siblings. The last few have been all about Mum, the moments before she did, the stroke she had in my arms and right before we took her to the hospital. Once they start I do everything in my power to break them off and get back into the Now, which may be why I’m being visited by Death today. I’m not letting myself experience these things, I’m refusing to look at them again and re-experience it all.
Anyway, it’s an interesting day. I hope this coming weekend lets me take some time to relax and regroup. Obviously I need it.