April 20, 2007

A "Recovery" Dream...


I really do not wish to bother you with my unconscious processes, but maybe you can help me with this "strange" dream I had the other night...

I dreamt that I was ushered into some "Recovery" group, so I can heal...
The rules were that I had to be myself and everyone else had to be too. We were all supposedly "equal" on the path.
A collective "unmasking" on our way towards "Healing and Recovery".

I introduced myself and some English parish priest asked me to speak up with no barriers...Remember that was a place of healing...

The minute I opened my mouth to give my name to the group, which was comprised of many nationalities and "faiths", I burst out into tears.

I cried non stop and every time I wanted to utter a sentence, a rational phrase, my words would turn into tears that would come gushing out, profusely, inundating the floor...

In the dream, I tried to be brave, but this was no time for bravery...
I was offered a cup of coffee and asked to talk some more...
And I went searching for the words and all I managed to speak were more tears...

Words became like drops of salted water, taking a shape and form all by themselves, bursting forth like a fountain...and I saw them roll on the floor, between the chairs, around the feet of the attendees...rolling like crystal balls in all directions...

I looked out of the window and I saw a dark sky falling around us...

A "left wing" American Jewish woman I had met in my (real) distant past, came up to me...
I remember that she was a chronic lamenting woman from New York.
She walked towards me and gave me a "friendly" hug.
And she told me in a very heavy nasal accent that she knew all about "It", since her people had to go through the same "Thing"...

And in her embrace, she came very close and lingered a little longer, whispering in my ear saying : " And even today, the Arabs and the Palestinians have not stopped persecuting us ".

I freed myself from her arms...struggling away from her. I pushed her forcefully to the side and started screaming: " Enough of you, enough of all of you and enough of your lies..."

The English parish priest asked me to control myself, calm down and to recollect my composure...and he offered me a glass of something to drink...

I took the glass and smashed it on the floor and saw it break into a million pieces...pieces of crystal glass flying all over the place...mingling with the teardrops that were, by now, covering the whole room.

And I screamed some more..."Liars, fuck you all...fuck you all".

I woke up shouting the F. word, drenched in tears and in sweat.
I also noticed my fists tightly clenched as if ready to punch the darkness surrounding me...

Any interpretations that may be "useful" to you too?

Painter: Iraqi female artist, Eman Ali Khaled, "Whispers" 1992.