The People Behind My Eyes

Two TV’s watched in the living room by strangers. One TV worked clearly, the other was blurry. I talked to the mother on the phone as I steam cleaned the carpet and strangers watched my TV. I poured dirty water from a small bucket into a large bucket as I explained to the mother that our recent phone conversations weren’t helpful but hurtful. We talked while there was a chimp sitting on the sofa, this chimp’s name is Bob. A pigeon perched on my desk which had been moved into the hallway while I cleaned the carpet. The desk blocked the restroom and bedroom from any entry at all.

The mother and I began to argue about what to feed Captain. She said her co-workers thought I should feed Captain differently. At that moment Captain was outside with two snakes in his mouth, one gold and black spotted, the other black and white striped. I told her when her friends pay his vet bills they can have a say in how I feed him. He seemed quite content with his new feeding program of wild animals he caught in the yard. The mother went on to tell me she was sorry she’d let me down recently. She then said she was going to have to let me down 4 more times. I asked what she meant. She said she was bringing home 4 new people to live with us. I told her that’s not letting me down but they can’t sleep in my room. I can’t share a room with anyone I told her. My sister, who had been quietly watching TV with complete strangers piped up and asked, “Since when can you not share a room with anyone?” “Since right now!” I said, “I’m not sharing a room with anyone.” The mother and I chatted a bit longer then hang up.

Later I left to go pick her up from work. She was in the hallway with throngs of executives leaving work. She stopped to chat with a few people. The hallway then turned into an ill-lit restaurant with executives eating at booths. The mother and I got separated. I tried to get over to her but couldn’t get through the crowd. I then had to use the restroom. I went to look for a restroom but there was always a reason why I couldn’t use a stall. Some had signs saying the restroom could only be used for changing your underclothes, some were only for men to change their clothes, some set aside only for fat people wanting to change their bra, some for only changing your panties. All the restrooms were lined with photographs, high quality fashion photographs but everyone was misplaced. The men were dressed as women and the women dressed as men. At first it was obvious and seemed a game but as I moved from restroom to restroom it became even harder to tell who was who. By the 10^th stall the sham photographs included children (fully dressed). There was room after room holding 30 to 40 stalls each, all stalls had photos in them and were set aside for specific uses. They were all very nice, very clean and very specific as to how they should be used. In each room (not a stall but the room holding the stalls) there were Vegas type performers at make up tables. They all turned to look at me as I went into each stall then came out because I didn’t meet the requirements. Each restroom was a different size and had a different purpose. I never found one set aside for a “big boned” black girl who just needed to pee.

Commentary: Each room in the mother’s house had a different theme. The living room was Oriental, Chinese to be specific. The kitchen was done in Coca-Cola memorabilia. The mother’s room was done in African masks from various tribes. The restroom was a seascape, my room was mallard ducks. I don’t recall what the theme of the sister’s room was. Every time we moved she changed the theme of the rooms except for her room, it stayed in its mismatched African theme.

The life we lead was a performance and a sham. Her eyes were everywhere, there was no privacy, and there were a ton of rules all that made no sense whatsoever. Our lives were one grand performance, like photoshopped images hiding wrinkles and scars so too were the smiles we presented to everyone.

The grandmother, my sister and myself often picked up the mother from work just before she retired. Years before we began picking her up she would get off work, pick the sister and me up from school then have us sit in the car waiting for her to get off work. We’d sit there for hours, late into the evening waiting.

Recurrent dream theme: Restrooms, things changing from one thing to another, the sister popping in unexpectedly. Confusing what is important with what isn’t.

New content: An apology from the mother followed by what she believed to be an offense which she also apologized for. She was sorry for having to let 4 people come to live with us when she should have been sorry about so many other things.

Feelings upon waking: intrigued

Dream Therapy: Rough Terrain Part 1of2-Thursday, May 08, 2008-7:22PM EST

Dream Therapy: Rough Terrain Part 1of2
Dream Therapy: Rough Terrain Part 2of2