Dreams of Blame and Guilt

I had a dream that Fife Senior asked me to take care of his plants for a few months. I told him I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here. He seemed shocked so I reminded him that I’m moving. He got really angry and told me I wouldn’t have to move if only I hadn’t put my artwork out for his daughter to destroy. I asked if he thought it was my fault and he said yes. I put it out there, if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be in this mess. He added that had I not made such a big deal about my doors being blocked with boxes his daughter wouldn’t have had to go off on me and we could have avoided all of this. All I had to do was keep my art work up and keep my mouth closed but I couldn’t do that.

I don’t remember much else of that dream but I know over all I feel responsible for this mess. That’s off I know but it’s how I feel. It was suggested to me that Fife’s daughter may feel a bit of jealousy towards me. I’m confused by that. Her father is the one who fought tooth and nail to see his kids. Her father is the one who in Night and Shining Armor fashion rushes in to rescue her. He made sure he saw her when the family broke up. He put her through college, he dotes on her, the girl can do no wrong. What could she be jealous about? My own father did none of the above, not that I know of anyway. It would be interesting to know just how hard he fought to see my sister and me. I try not to think about my father too much because I’d rather see him in a good light. I’d like to keep at least one family member I can put on a pedestal and hold higher than every one else. If I know too much about him or think too much about him I’ll see the real picture and ruin this fantasy version I happen to adore.

Fife’s daughter uses these phrases to get everyone to fall into place. She says stuff like, “it’s for the family” and “this has to do with our future.” It’s always about “the family” and keeping everyone together and no one else matters but “the family.” She says those words and they start acting like robots.

For a long time I called her Princess Fife but I didn’t call her that to be mean. I thought it was great she had her father wrapped around her little finger. I figure every girl should have it this way, it’s how it’s supposed to be. When I called her Princess Fife it wasn’t an insult. Now I just want to call her an ambulance so they can put her in a white coat and take her to the crazy farm. …… okay, that was random but still….. this woman is a whack job.

Part of me knows I couldn’t have predicted she’d move her stuff in here nor could I have predicted she’d destroy my art or rush me twice but part of me wonders had I just complied would I need a new place to live? When I think of myself keeping my mouth shut and falling in line I cringe. WTF, I don’t think so!! But another part of me wishes I had.

When I walk into the kitchen and see boxes stacked high and see a mouse run across the floor I lose myself. I lose myself and I can’t tell anymore if I’m in my mother’s house or my own. The filth, the boxes, the mice it all looks like my mother’s house. Then there’s a crazy maniac willing to argue and rush me for the slightest thing. I can’t seem to keep my head straight. I expect Fife Senior to yell through the door, (insert birth name) Get out here. Get the stick!” I can see myself on the floor. I can see my shirt off. I can feel that dowel rod. Mostly I feel the same humiliation as I did back then. I think to myself, what can I do to make this right? I know my head is screwed up and that I see this place as my mother’s house. I have a feeling I’m trying my best to make my home life back then turn out better. It feels like I messed this family up too.  I just don’t want this to be my fault. Part of me feels like it is but part of me is convinced it’s not. I just don’t know.

I think it was last Sunday that she and her husband moved out of here.  They may be gone but their stench is still here. There stuff is still here. They have boxes and furniture (mostly stuff of hers), stacked high in the kitchen, the dining room and in everywhere except my private area. They blocked the fridge and they blocked my white cabinet that holds all my spices and stuff. They totally blocked it off. I still can’t get to it. Boxes were stacked on top of Fife Senior’s computer, on top. The hallways were blocked, doorways, everything, everywhere. I don’t know, I just don’t know.

As far as I know they aren’t coming back. I wasn’t informed until the very day they moved in that they were here to stay so it’s not as if I’m in the loop or anything. I’ve been looking and I have some places in mind. It just pisses me off that I need to move and it hurts that part of me thinks I could have avoided this had I just knelt before my mother Princess Fife. It hurts.

Austin