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a family meal/argument/revelation

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a family meal/argument/revelation

Postby dreamer297 on January 10th, 2013, 3:36 am

Dream: I don't know what the setting was or the circumstances or some of the finer details, but it was like this.

The first part is very murky. My brother and I are sharing a room or in a study or sorts or something. There is some kind of pocket watch like object that has some answer or something that my brother wants from it, almost like he forgot it there. We both know we're not supposed to be using this pocketwatch type thing, and someone, possibly my dad comes to check on us and we hastily try to cover it up. My dog is around a bit, he's a bit sad. Inside the watch thing, or out from it, comes some kind of dark demon type ghost thing- a soul intent on destruction and fear, with eyes that are blank and have no real eyeballs. It feels quite horror filmy. We are both scared by it, and I'm not sure what happens beyond this. I am scared for my brother and I really want to make sure he's okay.

Everything changes.

We were having some kind of dinner party or event thing. My mother was very very unwell. She didn't seem herself in many ways, and she definitely wasn't happy. My father didn't care. My grandma was old and forgotten.

They were preparing a meal or something, maybe for a dinner party, or something like that, and there were some faces with unidentifiable faces floating around- like guests that had arrived early or something.

The first sign was during this. There was one woman who for some reason really seemed to irritate/scare/annoy/incite fury in my mum. Some kind of commotion, that could have been a possible disaster occurred, but I spoke to my mum in soft soothing tones, and she kind of calmed down. Then I wrote positive little uplifting messages on hers and everyone elses plates in pen before I served up the food. I remember thinking and hoping that the ink didn't run because of the heat of the food- not for the taste or anything, just cause I so desperately needed people to read and understand the messages. I remember a vivid image of a plate with black ink, the letters all smudged in one direction.

During the dinner, I noticed that this woman who had caused the problem for my mother/my mother had a problem with earlier was eating some of her food out of like a cardboard packaging for food. She smiled at me sadly but also with humour as though to say, I know what it is, and it's kind of okay.' We kind of shared a moment.

I looked at my mum and she was tense. She looked ready to say or do something- possibly out of jealousy for my empathy of this other woman. My father was absent, not available, distant, perhaps talking to other guests, perhaps not there yet. But he was present in his absence, and it caused a horrible murky feeling. My mother excused herself. I sat and waited for a bit. Then my grandma comes into view, on a separate table, all on her own, a candle on the table. No one is there. No one is talking to her. She is looking down and eating her food, something like soup. I get up and begin to wander past her, to follow my mum. My grandma says, solemnly, something like 'has something happened again?' indicating friction and arguments between my mum and dad. I ask her if she knows anything. She kind of indicates, something along the lines of how could she when she's ignored and on a table on her own. Here, the imagery is very sort of stone house- Mediterranean italian/spanish kind of thing to it all, and there's this soft glow all around, like the space is lit by candlelight and nothing else.

I'm suddenly aware that my dad's presence is outside, possibly to try and look for my mum but potentially because he's also smoking, I don't know (he doesn't actually smoke in real life). I walk outside and this imagery of Mediterranean theme continues, intermingled with like a chateu-y feel. My dad IS outside, and he's exasperated. Totally exasperated but also really not bothered. I think he IS smoking. I kind of without words, or maybe with words ask him where's mum gone? And he looks at me and kind of says, like i've heard him say before 'I don't know/care', and kind of indicates with a wave of the hand a particular direction. He is very tired and fed up and sad and just on the verge of giving up.

I find myself kind on on a roof terrace, looking into a room on the opposite side of what might be a courtyard like space, but with buildings in between on the ground.
My mum is rummaging around this room- I can see it's a mess. She's been at it for a while- I remember vividly thinking- I should have followed her/found her sooner. I then realise all the stuff in the room is MY stuff- my old files and books and notebooks and diaries and stuff. And she's opening another plastic wallet and is starting to rifle through it. I start to yell. A combination of just calling 'Annneeeeeeee!' (mum, in Turkish), through my cupped hands, and maybe once or twice, her name 'neslihaaaaan!'. She doesn't hear me. I think my intention was to make her stop- the anxiousness I felt at her going through my stuff was intense. She doesn't hear me, and keeps going. Suddenly my dads voice can be heard, sharp, commanding, 'Nesli!' from down below in the courtyardy space- he must still be out there smoking or something. He has caught her attention. She looks at me.

I suddenly find myself at these stairs- they remind me of my university halls/dorm a little, but a much much shitter version of them, intermingled with the crumbling, outside feel of my fire escape stairwell of the flat that I live in currently. The paint on the walls is all crusting and peeling. I walk up a few floors, to find her door. There is a small crowd of people outside it, all unknown, presumably neighbours, all concerned about what can be heard inside. The feeling of the place kind of shifts to include that of an old (but very terrible) hotel now as well as halls/bedroom/flat. I don't notice the number on the door, but I do notice the blood that trickles down it, as though the edges of the door have actually been bleeding. Some look old, some look new. It has a very horror-film esque feel to it.

I'm in the room, and there is paper EVERYWHERE. I'm vaguely aware of an ensuite to my right as I enter, but other than that, it's just torn up bits of paper everywhere- on the floor, over the bed, on the desk, chair. My mum bustles out of the ensuite- she's putting a work jacket on, like officey gear. She bustles past me, breathless and says, right, I've got to go.
I say mum, wait.
She's now sitting in the chair putting on one shoe. I'm saying something along the lines of 'wait, what's happened, wait'

She stands up, one shoe in one hand, and roughly, dismissively belittlingly says something along the lines of 'shut up and get out of my way'. I suddenly snap. I push her back down on the chair. And I grab her hair from behind her head. I force her head back, so she's looking up at my face while I stand over her. I say, very strongly, very interrogative, 'What. Happened. Here.'

I repeat it 'Tell. Me. What. Happened.'

She begins to crumble. She starts crying. She explains that she's pathetic, and came up here to cut herself and smear it on my personal items and journals to make me feel guilty. Then crying more explains she was also going to 'throw my dad off' (from some great height, ie- kill him) This last sentence is in Turkish, I'm not sure about the cutting and smearing bit though. I see the image of it more than hear those words, and the last image I have is her face crying, forced upwards by my hand, looking at me, and that's it. I wake up.

Significant Life Events: Seeing old friends, job interview, my boyfriends work situation, weather to go out patrying with said old friends.

Background: 24 yrs old
turkish ethnicity but have never lived there- british and australian upbringing.
Involved in theatre industry, but currently seeking work/unemployed- recently finished a masters training programme.

Mental Illness Or Depression: no

Location: London

Feelings About People: my mother and father are very heated and on and off- they are okay for bursts of time then have these huge, almost ending in divorce periods of time.
I love them both. I respect my father a lot because of how patient and calm he is and for a lot of his world views- but not all. I respect my mum a lot for how assertive she can be. I fear that my mum might have some mental health issues she doesn't know about.
I often stand in between them in arguments and stuff.
I love them and I know they love me very much, but I often feel like they don't quite understand the profession I'm choosing, the way I look at life, etc.
My grandma lived with us when I was a kif and basically looked after me loads while my parents worked- she was incredible and she is still lovely, but old age is beginning to show.
My brother- I love him more than anything and would do anything. He is 9 years younger than me, and our relationship is based on me being older, advisor, but cooler than parents for him.

Relationship Status: long term boyfriend

When And How Often: Just last night- woke up from it.
Dream Lover
Posts: 1
Joined: January 10th, 2013, 3:36 am

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