The Stuff of Dreams

Today's poem is another exercise in catharsis for me. Back in the late '80s and early '90s, I worked for a man who just about gave me a nervous breakdown -- Angela Knight would call him a Bosshole. (Wish I'd known that term back then, LOL!)

His name was Will, and he was a "recovering" alcoholic and a diagnosed bipolar who regularly went off his meds because he didn't like the way they made him feel. It was a Jekyll and Hyde story -- Will was a very intelligent man, an innovative risk-taker, and he could be quite generous with his employees. Hell, sometimes he was even loving -- he'd break down into tears of gratitude for all of us and tell us how much we meant to him. We were his family, since he didn't have a family of his own. But when he got into Hyde mode, he was condescending, manipulative, vindictive, and paranoid.

Meanwhile I was the child of an alcoholic, so my reaction to him was predictably codependent -- I thought if I could just be more perfect, he'd be happy.

God, what a horrendous six years that was! I dreamed about him periodically for ten years afterward, dreamed that I was back at work for him and wondering how the hell that had happened. It wasn't until I wrote this poem that the dreams finally stopped.

But before I show you the poem, I have to tell you about the dream I woke up to on Mother's Day. It was a nightmare, actually. I dreamed that the kids and I were driving down the road in the Suburban, and when we came over a hill, we saw that the road was covered with water at the bottom. I crept closer, wondering how deep the water might be -- I couldn't tell because it was kind of around a curve -- when suddenly the road gave way beneath us.

I saw that the Suburban was about to be swept away in a torrent of water, so I yelled at the kids to jump out. I saw Randy and Erin jump to safety, but Jana wasn't with them. I searched the Suburban frantically but couldn't find her. In a strange twist, the Suburban changed, growing smaller and gradually morphing into a long piece of woven material that used to be a boat. I picked it up and shook it, hoping to find her, but she wasn't there. I was standing on the shore and Randy and Erin were still there...and I looked at the huge river of muddy brown water roaring by and realized Jana was in there somewhere. She was gone. I only had two children left, and it was my fault -- I shouldn't have driven so close to the water. I doubled over with the pain and started screaming her name over and over...

And that's when I woke up. Of course, I burst into tears. OMG, I've NEVER been so glad to wake up and discover I'd been dreaming! (Not even after the agent dream.) I tried to tell Mr. Robin about it, but I was crying too hard.

Then I tried to go back to sleep because it was still pretty early, but I was too shaken up. And wonder of wonders, Jana came down early, while everyone else was still asleep, and crawled in with me. We snuggled for a while and then she wanted to play one of her old favorite games; she likes to crawl up inside my nightgown and pretend she's a baby in my tummy again. Normally I'm not fond of this game -- she's about to turn six and it's a pretty tight fit -- but this time I was more than willing. She tucked her little body inside the front of my nightie, her head just under my chin, and asked, "Mommy, can I suck my thumb?"

"Sure, baby," I told her.

So she sucked her thumb and made gurgling baby sounds while I held her close to my naked breast, and it was so incredibly wonderful, I thought my heart would burst.

Then she started giggling and squishing my breasts and the moment passed. I laughed and told her to quit that and she giggled some more and said, "But Mommy, I like jiggling your boobies!"

That was when I decided it was time to get up and make breakfast. I discovered to my dismay that there were only six strips of bacon left, but Erin doesn't like bacon, so I figured I'd give two to Mr. Robin, two to Randy and two to Jana. I cooked them up and then scrambled some eggs before getting down paper plates. As usual, I went to make Mr. Robin's plate first, and when I reached for the bacon, there were only two pieces on the paper towel.

"Who ate all the..." I turned around and there was Jana, clutching the tail end of a piece of bacon and giving me a guilty grin.

"I just love bacon so much, Mommy," she said earnestly.

Any other day, I'd have been annoyed with her, but all I could do was laugh. Randy, the little sweetie, gave up his two pieces so that his dad could have some, and we all had a nice morning.

It was, indeed, the stuff of dreams.

So here's today's contribution to the Poetry Train.

Way Overdue Purging Acrostic

Mystical swirling dispatched by a scream.
Yesterday's drama is this night's dream;
Sweating the truth of a job gone wrong,
Trembling with anger I've swallowed too long,
Eyes dripping hopelessness stare in the dark,
Realize crawling is leaving its mark
In a psyche too precious to squander on Will;
Only in nightmares of him do I kill--
Until now, I recall, lying back with a yawn,
Sunrise will find my boss stabbed on his lawn.

(Oh, I needed that!)

© 2003 Robin L. Rotham

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