Carnivore Dreams and Nightmares

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The nightmare:

Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve had in a long time. We had a nice weekend when my daughter and son-in-law and grandson visited. It was nice.

Yesterday, my husband gets up with my dad as he does while I sleep later — since I’m up off and on all night dealing with dad. He woke me up because Dad said he wanted to go by himself to the bathroom and shave and do his water pic deal. Dick was making breakfast and the shower lady was due soon who helps do all that stuff. We found out he might have a bladder infection, but he was terrible again:

I said he couldn’t go alone and he said, let’s see: I was trying to keep him down all the time. (Not that it was the Parkinson’s or his age or anything else — it’s ME) He wanted a “normal” life. Put him in a home. I just had to be right all the time. I should just let him die.

For years, it was me erring on the side of his independence and dignity even though I knew he was falling a lot. Until we just couldn’t do that anymore.

My brother talked to him and he didn’t even remember falling just going from his chair to the dining table, about two steps away. About a month ago, maybe a bit longer.

It must be awful to be him, but it’s almost impossible to tell he gives a crap about ME. Ever. Not long ago I held a cup for him when he was choking, but he had his eyes closed and asked me if I wanted him to spit in my face. Never a heart felt thank you. Just this attitude I am ruining his life. And no apologies ever.

And the food is all bad, too.

About twelve years before he was my age, he was basking in the sun in the Caribbean or Florida all winter while I’m lucky to get a short vacation still. He retired at 52 and went through every dime. Every bit of it.

What the hell is a “normal” life? This has been a horrible life for two years or more for me. Never occurs to him that this is no walk in the park for us.

You know this stuff is going to happen, but somehow that doesn’t make it easier. It just doesn’t. You wonder why in the world you are doing this. And he might just get his wish.

On top of this we are trying to do taxes, though they don’t have all the business forms updated. So that is frustrating as well.

So I had a dream. Dad insisted I take him “home” which was my child hood home, I think. A circular drive and it was summer and sunny. Dad was trying to hit a golf ball, and my late mother walked up to me around the circle. I told her he was mean and she put her arm around me. I think she said something else I can’t remember. Mother was never mean; she was annoying, though. 🙂 I was mean, growing up. But we had gotten very close after I got married and had children.

I thought it would be she and me here, not Dad and me. She died at 64 of a massive stroke.

I have been trying to evoke her in my dreams to ask her some important questions (see sidebar that runs about me) — if Einstein is right about Time, perhaps dreams are a portal through which we travel and maybe dreams are more real than we in western society think. I think so. Concentrating on lucid dreaming or writing my novel hasn’t been a priority, and my mother seemed to elude my dreams, yet she was there when I needed her.

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