Conversations with Gauze.

My Mom loves gauze.  More specifically, gauze clothing.  If it is made of gauze, she will wear it.  And she has the baby-poop-colored gauze harem pants to prove it.

It’s an issue.

So much so that I had a nightmare about it last night.

It’s a little fuzzy (well, I’m in Mexico, so it’s a leetle fuzzy)(c’mon people, it’s a joke), but, we were driving around Vail (as in Vail, Colorado) and all of the sudden we saw a truck fly over a guardrail and off a cliff-thingie, while I was focused on the ball of flame and twisted metal below, she noticed a store having a sale.  And went in.

So, after parking the car out of the way of the emergency vehicles arriving at the scene, I followed her into the store.

You know how big Costco stores are?  This dream store was at least that big.  And it was full of gauze clothing.  Exclusively.  All gauze, all the time.  In every color imaginable.  It was gauze heaven, dream Mom was ecstatic.  There were at least two other people in the store – a big biker-looking dude and his skinny meth-addict looking girlfriend.  No idea where they came from.  Anyway, turns out, the biker dude also loved gauze…?

And because he was in the store and he was not her, Mom put him to work.  The meth-addict chick and I made ourselves scarce while biker dude assisted Mom in her effort to add to her gauze wardrobe.  I don’t know what the meth-addict chick did, but I was crouched down behind a display counter looking at a display of super cheap jewelry.

I feel like a dream analyst could make a career out of interpreting this one.  And I can’t even write about the really juicy stuff.  Just kidding, I would totally write about it if there were any. 

What does this dream say about me and my state of mind?  My brilliant friend Marie says that when we dream we are all parts of our dream.  In this case that means I am me, Mom, the people in the truck that crashed, the meth-addict, and the biker-dude.  Fewer personalities than when I am awake, but that is another blog post altogether.

The truck going over the cliff is disturbing, but probably not that hard to interpret.  Could be my legal career, my love life, my looks, my health, my sanity — it’s a toss-up, really.  Mom not really noticing it/being concerned about it is….troubling.  The fact that I am Mom and not noticing is weird.  Everyone knows I love a good disaster.

But the gauze?

What is that all about?  I hadn’t even really thought about it, at least consciously.

Me:  “Gauze!  Why are you haunting me?”

Gauze:  “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Me:  “Probably, then again I’m talking to a fabric, and the fabric is talking back, so drama is warranted.”

Gauze:  “Good point.”

Me:  “Oh My God.  I just realized I’m wearing what could be described as a gauze sundress today!  WTF?”

Gauze:  “I’m a light and airy fabric, perfect for the beach.  Especially good for someone who fried her back on her first day in the sun.”

Me:  “Whatever.  It was a rookie mistake and I’m paying for it.  Thanks for reminding me.”

Gauze:  “Why do you think you are dreaming about me?”

Me:  “Well.  I guess you represent obsession.  Mom’s obsession.  Do you represent Mom?”

Gauze:  “What if I do?”

Me:  “I don’t know.  I guess it makes sense that I’m dreaming about her.  But I have a bad feeling about this dream.  I don’t want to have bad feelings about her.”

Gauze:  “Hmmmmm, interesting…”

Me:  “What does that mean?  What do you know?”

Gauze:  “I’m flowy and pretty and airy and that is about all I know, it’s your dream. What do you know?”

Me:  “Oh good, more work.  Okay, I know that I get frustrated with my situation, but I don’t think that I am allowed to be frustrated.  And I know I’m struggling this week.  I’m wearing her clothes, living in her house, surrounded by her art, driving her car, meeting up with her friends.  I’m living her life and it isn’t one that I created.  There is nothing of me here.  Even though I “found” Puerto Morelos and have history here, it is mostly with her.  Plus I feel the pressure to move here.  Which my inner fuck you hates, even though I’ve been dreaming about it for over 10 years.  I don’t want it to be Mom’s idea, her plan, her house, her life.  And I don’t want to imagine being here without her.  Everything is so jumbled and contradictory.  Do I have to sort it out right now?”

Gauze:  “No.  But you are further along than you were before we began this conversation, so that is a plus.  Why is gauze bothering you?”

Me:  “Ugh.  I guess it’s just another one of her obsessions.  I’m surrounded by them.  It’s oppressive.  Everything about this place is a reflection of obsession.  And it’s nice, so I don’t know exactly what is bothering me.”

Gauze:  “Yes you do.”

Me:  “Fucking gauze.  I’m ON VACATION, why now?”

Gauze:  “What part of this is vacation for you?”

Me:  “The part where I’m not in Colorado.  The part where I get to sit on the beach and stare at the ocean.  Other than that it is pretty much just like at home, except there are fewer people around to give me a break.  As in none.  Could explain my mood.”

Gauze:  “Go back to obsession, what is true for you?”

Me:  “Oh alright.  Everything about this trip is triggering me.  It is reminding me of a time when I was off my rocker.  Obsessed.  Making bad choices.  Fucking up.  On the wrong medication (for like a decade) and not dealing with it.  It wasn’t healthy.  I hurt a lot of people, including myself.  I was selfish and short-sighted.  I was also running scared.  I was manic/depressed/manic/depressed.  Just like Mom.  Or my experience of Mom.  My obsessions weren’t as pretty as some of hers have been.  Plus she is self-medicating.  And I totally understand wanting to self-medicate in her situation.  And I’m not judging her.  I am, however, totally and completely triggered by it.  I feel like running away.  Or blowing up at her.  Or both.  And I’m not going to do either of those things, I will go back home and make her dinner.”

Gauze:  “That is a lot.  Have you considered forgiving yourself?  Other people?”

Me:  “Fucking gauze.”

THE END

So, once again, I didn’t see any of that coming.  Is it too early to start drinking?  Kidding.  Did any of this make sense?  Am I just revealing my horrible soul to the world?  I’m running out of battery and the Mexican band is now singing “Feelings”.  I wish I were kidding.  I don’t even have time to edit.  Battery dying.

Hasta la vista, bitches 🙂

xoxo

kim

Advertisements

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

2 responses to “Conversations with Gauze.

  1. Guyla

    Sounds like you are perfectly normal to me! It’s tough to be a daughter and now, in other ways, y0u are the mother. You are doing fine! Just treasure these days and deal with your life later. Easier said than done!

  2. irene

    saw a movie this weekend w/the grandkids and the message from the movie was “have compassion with yourself so that you can love the world.” i thought that was awesome – i always wondered if compassion had a pay off. gives me permission to stop beating myself up, quit being a perfectionist, do everything for everyone etc. so if i can just accept myself for who i am, i’ll learn to let go and enjoy my world, otherwise i won’t love my life. so that’s it. if i’m compassionate w/myself – i’ll love “my world” b/c its “all about me*” *each one of us has our own world. . .cool, huh? hard for me to interpret this dream kim – i’ll have to read it again and get back to you!
    love,
    irene

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s