Mom & Me Two Archive

...I had a curious dream. I dreamed that my father, who appeared as a cross between Vin Diesel and Brad Dourif (the actor who played Billy Bibbit in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) arrived at our home (which was an expanded version of an old apartment I rented many years ago on 5th Avenue and Roosevelt in downtown Phoenix, an apartment I remember with fondness as it was a luxury apartment in the 1920s with features such as arched doorways, a true garden bathroom, completely tiled, with a bathtub window that opened onto a small courtyard and such amenities as an ironing board that dropped from a wall cabinet, a kitchen sink window framing a western/sunset exposure and tiling throughout the kitchen area including on the counter tops) on motorcycle, announced that he was going to take over my mother's care and that it was time for me to leave and start life anew. My mother was horrified. She didn't want him to manage her care nor live with us. I fought his attempts to enter the house and eject me. I was unsuccessful at keeping him out but was successful at remaining in the house and disallowing his takeover of my mother's care. As I was protecting my mother and frantically interrupting his attempts to accomplish caregiver tasks, a variety of people dressed in everything from business suits to formal party attire arrived one by one offering me this and that job, begging me to engage in formal employment in a variety of fields. I considered every offer carefully, thinking that maybe my father was right but realized and voiced, with incredulity, that I was unqualified to handle any of the jobs: Positions such as president of a bank; scuba diver on a research team beneath the Arctic ice; featured exhibitor at an art gallery in Chicago; and, one peculiar position that, in an awakened state, delights me, sweeper of the sun off the streets of the Phoenix Metroplex. I recall thinking that I was qualified for this position but was unsure of its necessity and considered that it was underpaid. None of my protests seemed to matter to these people. Toward the end of the dream (which was determined by me awakening out of it) I decided that I was best suited to taking care of my mother and continued my efforts to protect her from my father's takeover by trying to talk him into taking one or another of the jobs being offered me, as they all were positions for which, in the dream, anyway, he was well suited. The dream ended before my success was established. My mother, by the way, was in a fancy, gadgeted to the hilt wheelchair.
    I wanted to record this dream before I forgot it, although since I had it I've fixated on it and, far from fading, it becomes sharper and clearer.