A couple of years ago, I had a dream that was so vivid and disturbing and felt so meaningful, but I couldn't understand its message then.
In it, I realize, to my dismay, that what I inherited from my father isn't a small apartment, but instead a huge house full of intimidating old furniture and all sorts of dusty old junk. We'd just been living in one tiny room, because that was all we could afford to redecorate, my husband and I, but then I discover the rest. Room after room after room of dark old junk. We'd never have the money or the energy to redo all that. And I didn't want to sell the entire house and just move. No, the house was somehow part of me and I knew I'd have to get to it in time. But, right now, all I could do was live in the small functional part of the house that my husband and I remodeled and seal the rest off.
I get it now. The house was me, and much in it was what I inherited from my narcissistic father. All the baggage I wasn't ready to deal with then. My marriage was the functioning haven in my life, and my husband was the support I'd have in the future in order to deal with all that, in time, when I could emotionally afford to and had the energy for it.
Well, here's to redecorating the whole house, opening it up and airing it! Here's to blogging!
It's frustrating to find out you somehow knew all this much earlier, but couldn't tell it to yourself. Can't these dreams just send an e-mail or an sms?