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Homework and My Mom

That’s what my nightmare was about last night. I ‘m pretty sure there were two nightmares: one about my mom, and one about my homework. They were pretty foggy even right after I woke up.

About the homework part: I’m in a class at our local JC, and the teacher was very clear that if we didn’t do our homework, our grade would go down one letter (for EACH homework missed). I haven’t done my homework; the class is tomorrow; I guess I’m worried about forgetting to do it. Though it’s just one more stress to add to my already full plate. Sometimes I wonder what I would do without this anxiety that fills me all the time….

The nightmare that had to do with my mom…well, it needs some background. I don’t talk to her and haven’t talked to her for 10 years, though I did talk to her once or twice in there. It’s been well over 5 years since I’ve talked to her. I don’t think about her, I don’t worry about her, it’s as if she doesn’t exist. I might think of her once a month if something triggers a memory or if someone talks about their mom…otherwise, there’s really no feeling there for her.

In addition to this, she is NOT invited to the wedding. She will not get an invitation, an announcement, nothing. Is this hostile? I don’t think so. I treat her as I would an acquantaince, or more appropriately, someone I met and didn’t really like so now don’t choose to have her in my life.

Which brings me to my dream. She was at my freaking wedding. GAH!!! Someone save me!! But the totally icky part…I told her I loved her. Ugh. Surely that wasn’t me talking. The interesting part, though, is that the mom that I told her I love her is not my mom as I know her. It was my mom how she should be…loving and non-drinking. There wasn’t really much more to remember out of the dream, because it was really torturous to tell her even in my dream that I love her. Because I don’t love her. She tore up her mom card when I was a child, and is nothing more than the woman who gave birth to me. Just when I start thinking that I may be exaggerating how bad my childhood was, I go back and read things I wrote down, journal entries and the like, and I realize that it really is as bad, even worse, than I remember.

So that was last night. Hopefully tonight’s nightmares don’t have my mom. That just makes them worse.

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