Category Archives: dreams

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Dissolution

I am sorting, Beloved.

I dream that my sister has drowned
in the ocean. A sailboat went down.
There were others on board.
Two friends ready me to dive and find her.
I don’t want to scuba dive, I am not trained.
I don’t know how to use the equipment.
I am afraid I will drown too.
I see her daughter, who is four.
Her daughter knows from my face that her mother is lost.
My friends say, “You will be able to find her.
You can find your sister.”
“But she is dead,” I say.
“I don’t want to find her.”
I know that they are right, I could find her.
But I might be separated and lost, in the depths.
I don’t want to die too.

I wake up.
The dream sticks.
My friends wanting me to wear a borrowed wetsuit
and scuba gear and go down untrained.
My sister floating in the depths, dead eyes open.
But she has been dead for years, I think.
And this is the sea of dreams
my unconscious
the greater unconscious
everything.
So why isn’t my sister’s body dissolving?
Changing to a skeleton.
A skeleton coming apart over the years.

I don’t need a wetsuit
or scuba gear
to dive in the sea of dreams
I can breathe in the unconscious
I have been to the bottom of the sea
many times before.

My niece is four in the dream.
She was thirteen when her mother died.
I think she was lost to me long before that.
The dream knows.
Her mother was lost to me
when my niece was four.
Drowned.

When the dream returns
I will say yes to the dive
I love the sea and the ocean and going deep
I don’t need a wetsuit
I don’t need scuba gear
I don’t need to find my sister’s body
She is gone
Dissolved
I let my past go.

I have not dreamed of the ocean

since.

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I really don’t know where my sister is, because of the family schism after she died. Are her ashes somewhere?

This poem wanted to be born. For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Who knew?

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Pick one, delete two

I went through my blog this morning, picked a month two years ago, and deleted a bunch of photographs and the accompanying posts. More room! It is not a very fast process.

I am thinking about the Ragtag Daily Prompt today, hamfatter. It makes me think of Miss Piggy first. Don’t we all have a little bit of ham in us if we are in the right situation? Even if it’s just a dream or a daydream. Hamfatter also brings up ham and my inlaws. My son and daughter-in-law and daughter were all home for my birthday earlier this year. We also stopped at my daughter-in-law’s house, to pick my son up. Her parents heard it was my birthday and gave me a ham. How surprising and kind!

Yesterday I ordered prints of photographs to send to them, almost all with their daughter. She told me not to print any of the climbing gym or of the pets that her mother dislikes. Got it! I tried to pick ones that they will enjoy. It is a start of holiday gifts.

I am still having disaster nightmares, last night about my house. My house is far away right now and apparently my brain is worrying. I dreamed that there were clean baby clothes folded and piled all over the place in the upstairs bathroom, even on the commode. I took them off it and discovered that it was backed up. Then the walls dissolved and I realized with horror that there was water flooding through them! Then I woke up. Not a fun dream and no, there are not clean baby clothes in the upstairs bathroom. I think it is a combination of being far away and the coming administrative change. In some states it is illegal for a physician to discuss abortion. Will vaccines be next? And the most abortions are the spontaneous ones, where the pregnancy ends and passes. We call that a miscarriage but it is also called a spontaneous abortion. I wonder if those are illegal too.

I dress a bit more formally for work then at home. Maybe there is a bit of hamfatter there, too, entering the role of doctor.

I took the photograph in 2007.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: hamfatter.

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Bolster meaning

It did not even occur to me that yesterday’s dream could be taken as complaints about patients! That was not my meaning!

I wrote the dream out because I wanted to know what it was trying to tell me. And I look at it from the perspective of all the people in the dream being aspects of myself.

So who is the whiny guy (me) who won’t cooperate with authority (me) and who wants attention and is difficult? That’s not a very nice aspect of myself!

First of all, he reminds me of my father. My father really did not like authority and did not like most men. When I was quite small, I announced that he would have to die first, because he couldn’t live without my mother, but she could live without him. I was wrong as well as being an awkward child. My father’s dislike of authority interfered with his employment and he was mostly underemployed. He finished a Master’s in Mathematics, but never wrote the thesis for his PhD. I asked him why once and he said, “I was bored.” I don’t know how much alcohol interfered with his working.

I am not brilliant with authority either, though I am trying. I notice systems and often annoy authority by asking why something is run a certain (foolish and unproductive) way. I used to study whatever system I was in and then say, “Here, I’ve thought up a solution for this problem.” Then I would get in trouble for suggesting that there was a problem and I would be the problem. I learned to go to authority first and ask, “So is this (huge problem) a problem? I find it difficult. What is your advice?” Priming the pump, so to speak.

As a temp, the authority problem is weirder. I am an outsider, short term, no one really has to be nice to me. That fast trip home and back made me realize that I am lonelier in a group clinic than I was in a solo clinic. In my solo clinic there was me, my receptionist and the patients. In this group clinic I have less people to talk to and it is lonely. My problem, not theirs. They are about to move me to another clinic and I will see what approach I can take to this. The system might have a Balint Group or I may be able to start one.

What about the frozen looking spouse? Ha, I think that’s the part of me that is trying to keep my mouth shut with authority. The kids? Some days I want to pull the system apart and fix it, but I am not in authority to do that here. The grumpy nurse? I am running behind and I can’t fix everyone. Some people don’t want to be fixed, including me.

I could go home and try another place. However, I think that the cracks in the US medical system are in the whole system. As a country, we built this. I hope that I see single payer healthcare in my lifetime, but I may not. And Martha is right too: I thought that this place was doing better handling a chronic illness than where I worked in 2021, but they aren’t, really. They apply a formula, but the patients don’t get much out of it. They just get shuffled in once every three months. I did upset that apple cart by spending more time with those people and talking to them, but I do not know what the next physician will do. Sigh. The patients are already my patients and are saying goodbye.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: meaning.

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Bolster my courage

I am having nightmares. About clinic. Yesterday I bolstered my courage and sat down to write my dream out. What are my dreams trying to tell me? Should I extend my contract or not?

I dream that in clinic I have a male patient with his wife in the room. He is very dramatic, saying, “I am so ill, help me, help me.” He says, “I am on quercetin. You have to help me.”

He won’t tell me what his symptoms are, so I respond to what he says: “Who prescribed quercetin? What is your diagnosis?”

“Oh, you don’t want to help me,” he says. His wife just watches.

“Do you have pain somewhere? Any chest pain? Any abdominal pain? Any pain anywhere?”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” he says, “You aren’t listening!”

“I am trying to help you,” I say. “Can we reschedule you for a longer visit?” This is one of the impossible 20 minute ones. Honestly, he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. I do a quick listen to heart and lungs and feel his abdomen.

“No, I need to be in the hospital, I can’t go home!”

“I can’t put you in the hospital without a diagnosis, but we can move you to the emergency room.” Of course, the ER won’t be happy about this.

I leave the room and call the ER. The ER doctor is understandably grumpy, since I have no idea what this is about and am suspecting a psychiatric cause. “Urine drug screen,” I say. “He doesn’t smell drunk. I do not think it’s meth withdrawal.” “Make sure you do a note,” snarls the ER doctor. Good luck, since he won’t answer any questions. “How behind am I?” I ask the nurse. She just rolls her eyes. I probably have at least four or five more on the schedule. I come back to the room. Now two preteens are in the room, looking in the drawers and taking things out. Their parents do nothing to stop them.

“Please sit down now!” I say. “Put that down!”

The teens sullenly comply. The father is moaning. He has the prescriber on his cell phone. He hands it to me. I introduce myself. “What is your diagnosis?” I say. “Why is he on quercetin?” The person at the other end mumbles. “Excuse me, what did you say?” He’s gone. I say to the mother, “Please take the children to the waiting room. Sir, are you requesting that we call 911?” It would be a call saying man moaning, no idea what he’s on about. Vitals are normal, he denies chest pressure or pain, he doesn’t have an acute abdomen, his oxygen level is fine, no fast heart rate, no fever. Drama.

I wake up, thinking that I may have to call 911 to get the wife and kids out and I have to have someone monitor him while I see other patients and we just don’t have enough staff and I am ready to just cancel the rest of the afternoon. If I were in a hospital, I could call security, but we are a satellite small clinic.

So… what the heck is THIS dream about? And do we really get patients like this? Yes, but not often and I haven’t had any like this here. I think it’s funny that this dream has so much detail, down to the supplement that the man is taking as well as the clinic room. I usually work in room 1 and 2, but this was in room 5.

To be continued.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bolster.



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Tea bear

My friend C. is a bear.

People don’t know she is a bear. She carries a bear, a teddy bear. It is named S Bear, after her husband. He died of cancer a while ago. So she carries a bear named after him. The first time I met the bear, I asked if it needed a teacup too. Because people make clothes for it and I don’t know how far it all goes. No, the teddy bear did not need a teacup.

My friend C. is a bear. She writes horror stories under the name lostcauser. The writer is from Tennessee and so is C. The stories are horrid. Lostcauser is an anagram. Rearrange the letters and you get closet ursa. Closet bear. Hidden bear.

She is not my only friend who is a bear. She is aware of her bearness, her ferocity, the beast inside. Bears like honey and blueberries, too, they aren’t just monsters. My other friend dreams of a one room shack in the woods. His dead brother is at the door shouting for help. His brother is being attacked by a bear. A huge terrifying bear.

“Did you invite it in?” I ask.

“It’s a BEAR.” says my friend.

“It’s a Dream Bear.” I say, “I would ask what it wants.”

“You don’t understand bears,” says my friend.

“I understand a lot about dreams. Some think that everyone you see in a dream is a part of yourself. It can be a part that you don’t accept.”

“Bears attack. You can’t invite them in.”

“I would ask the bear in. I would ask the bear if it would like some tea.”

I tell another friend about one of my dreams. There are monsters screaming. I go towards them.

“TOWARDS them?” says my friend. “Why would you go TOWARDS them?”

I have to think about it. “Well, they are screaming. They might be hurt. They might need medical care. I have to go help them.”

My friend shakes his head. “Only you,” he says, “would go towards the screaming.”

One time in my neighborhood, I hear horrible screaming. I get up. It is 1 am. I go out and try to find the screamer. I don’t find anyone. A few days later, I read that someone nearly severed their arm somehow, in my neighborhood. A policeman saves his life with a tourniquet. It was three blocks from my house, at the grade school. The grade school is where I went. I think the person was knifed, but I don’t know. My neighborhood does not get a lot of that sort of thing, at least, not a lot of screaming that wakes me up.

I wonder about my friend that is attacked by a dream bear. A bear that is much bigger than his dream self and his dream brother self. There must be a lot of darkness in that bear. It is angry about being ignored.

My friend C. is a bear. She knows she is a bear. Reading her stories, I do not think she likes being a bear.

I don’t mind if she is a bear. I wonder if we will have tea again some day.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fan. Why? Maybe I am a fan of bears. Or maybe fans make me think of hats and gloves and tea parties. And bears.

This is based on speculation and some true events.

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Tree dreams

Tell me, tall one, what do you dream of in the night? What do you long for in the early rising sun? What messages come to you on the wind, through the rain, through the soil? Your tall branches catching dreams and catching the rays of the sun, some slipping through to me. I send you love and dreams of joy, however that looks to a tree.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: dreamcatcher.

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Stand up

I am in a large room, like an expensive hotel lobby. There is a large black bowl like structure, fountain size, but without a fountain. There is a big woman bullying me. She is making me dump containers of ice into the bowl structure. It will overflow and I will be blamed. Another woman whispers to me: “You have to sing a song about abuse, so that people will know that she is making you do this.” I know songs about abuse but at that moment I can’t think of any. Then I do. I remember a song my mother sang, this verse:

“Two little babies, crying for bread. With none to give them, don’t you wish that you were dead. Don’t you wish you were a single girl again.”

I wake up. The song is about a young woman, married, whose husband is drinking up his paycheck. She and the babies are starving and he beats them. Not a pretty picture of marriage, is it?

I wake up. One way to think about dreams is that each person in the dream represents an aspect of ourselves. So WHY is my inner bully showing up? I don’t like this!

That day my friend goes from the hospital to a nursing home for rehab. I speak to three people on the team, because my friend has a cardiology appointment the next day and I want to be sure that she will be taken to the visit. She is going to a nursing home 40 minutes away.

On the appointment day, I call the rehab just after 9 am when the internet says they open. There are three choices: two halls and a main office. I leave a message on hall one. I call back and leave a message on hall two. I wait another ten minutes and call the office. No answer, I leave a third message. I wait until 9:30 and call again. This time that inner voice with gumption is fired up: “I need a call back by 11:30 or I will drive up there, I need to know that my friend has transport to cardiology for her 12:45 appointment.”

I get a call back at 10:30. The rehab person introduces herself. “Oh, we can’t transport her because she just got here yesterday.”

“You don’t understand,” I say. “This visit is to make sure her heart is ok after restarting a medicine. It is not optional.”

“We can’t transport her.”

“I am sick, I can’t transport her. What is your name? What is your position? Who is in charge of the facility? What about her heart, your facility has no concerns if her heart is poisoned?”

“Just a moment.” Papers rattle. “Oh, we DO have transport arranged. Someone else wrote it down and I didn’t see it.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I was so worried!”

I go to the appointment, masked. The driver says my friend was a last minute addition. The visit goes well. I am on the tail end of a cold, not covid, and I am very tired from trying to be sure that my friend gets good care. I think THAT is what the dream is about, the inner strong voice who is not going to let my friend be abandoned, be bullied, be ignored. She is too ill to fight for herself so I am fighting for her. And I am formidable.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: gumption.