08/25/1999

Dream: Ignorance

-I am playing golf (!?)
-there are people on the course from the church we went to when I was a kid. They ask why… something about church?
-I decide it’s time to stop running and I tell them I haven’t been to church in years. I’m not going back. They talk down to me, as if I’ve made a stupid decision, but also as if I were a stupid person
-I’m not impressed. I explain my standpoint, but they’re not listening to me. How ignorant some people can be!
-I start yelling at them and can’t tell if I’m crying or if there are just tears in my eyes
-these people make me so angry that I don’t even try to control myself. I know I can’t get the point across in this format, but I keep yelling that God is Love
-no one is listening to me

When Iyanla Vanzant and Oprah were discussing their respective experiences of sexual abuse, Iyanla said, “This is how you know that it’s healed.” She could talk about the experience without identifying with the pain of the experience.

Lately, I have been wondering how much of my own childhood pain has yet to be healed. When I was talking with Christie today, I was almost surprised to hear myself mention my father, although it makes sense that I would.

I want my memories back! I want to remember what it was like growing up in this house. If it was painful, so be it! It was, after all, an essential part of my experience.

Nothing is clear in my mind; at least, nothing concerning my youth.

A part of me wishes I had gone to stay with Lawrence for a few days, but I don’t feel that I made the wrong decision. How intimate would it have been to spend some time alone with him! I have an overwhelming feeling, though, that I will get my chance.

What a lovely man.

Christie feels so loved by him, and they don’t even know each other. I felt like calling him this evening, but thought that might seem too obsessive. Why is that a concern all of the sudden? Is it such a crime to be obsessed?

I really should name this man. What is he, to me? More than a teacher, certainly. A friend, but so much more than that. I’m not even sure what I want him to be. That’s the problem.

Another problem is that he must learn to be more straightforward with me. I can translate his dialogue, but I don’t think I should have to. If he wants to invite me over, he must provide me with an excuse. What reason would I give my mother for staying there?

Giselle