I Know One Is Supposed To Apologize

I had a dream I was an accessory to murder. The problem with the dream is that I woke up utterly convinced that it had happened and had to get my husband to reassure me over and over that I couldn't have possibly murdered anyone.

I was so convincing that I had been an accessory to murder that my husband temporarily seemed confused and was not as reassuring as I needed him to be. I think for a minute I had him convinced that I had been involved in a murder.

Real life cause: In real life, there was a death of a family member I deeply loved. Cousins I hadn't seen for years came to the funeral. I drank a lot. I talked to them and complained about how this family member's child had essentially taken money from this person for years. It hurt because I did not know. I did not know that this child was bleeding his parent dry.

There's an absolutely heartbreaking part to this, to me. This person, the person who died, had been saying they wanted to visit their sister but they couldn't afford to. I had the idea of giving them a birthday present of some money but I did not get around to it yet and the sister died before the person could go see her. The person showed me all these things that had been saving to bring to the sister. So they never go to see their sister. I remember thinking at the time: Why were they suddenly poor? Why could they not afford the plane ticket. I hadn't known to offer them money because they had always had money.

But their child was a drug and gambling addict and took it all. This child is in their fifties.

At the wake, I drunkenly told this cousin the whole story. I knew there was something wrong with doing so. After all, the person who died would not have wanted me to do that.

Of course I wanted confirmation that what the child had done was wrong, oh so very, very wrong. But the cousin did not give me that. The cousin said that it was the person's money to dispose of and they would have given it away in any case.

Oh, shit. I'm now realizing what this dream was about. Oh, blogging. It's so revealing sometimes.

I haven't even told you the dream yet. In the dream, I was with this cousin and the cousin hit someone on the head with a blunt instrument.  Instead of going to the doctor, I got the brilliant idea that the problem was simply brain swelling. Let's open up his head! Cut off some of the skull, alleviate the pressure on the brain.

The person--whoever it was--died.

The dream was a memory of the murder. In the dream, I was simply remembering the murder. So when I woke up, I had this crazy feeling like I had remembered something that had actually happened.

This is the closest I've ever been to the experience of true madness. It was like knowing what it was to be truly mad (instead of the little bit of mad that I already am). The brain tricks you with the thought and the thought comes accompanied with the markers the brain gives it to distinguish the real. It is not real but you don't have the mental guideposts to know that.

I've always been afraid of going mad (given that I'm slightly mad) and this confirms the obvious--it would be horrible.

To be honest, this bit of madness is caused by lack of sleep and overwork. I'm so fucking sick of working all the time. I'm so tired from constant work and my fatigue is making me fall behind in my work which causes more fatigue as I try to catch up. I am a little bit insane already.

So the dream. Now I get it, perhaps. I wanted, in some unconscious way, to kill this person who had caused their parent all that pain. Is that right?

God, blogging anonymously sucks sometimes. I could tell this story better if I didn't have that hangup. Of course, if I wasn't hiding my identity, I wouldn't tell it at all.

Comments

[Mary]

I do feel sorry for the parents of this child. I have a friend in the same situation with her parents. Her brother once lived in a storage unit. He lives and/or smokes crack in her parents attic. She is terrified that he will set the house on fire. Yet her parents will not listen to any intervention. I know that people on the outside looking in can not connect, can not understand the bond that a parent has with a child. Good post, though I feel your pain. Everyone screws up, don't beat yourself up too hard. Take a mental health off from work. Believe me, they will not go under.

[schmutzie]

You are being featured on Five Star Friday!
http://www.fivestarfriday.com/2009/04/five-star-friday-edition-50.html

[schmutzie]

I often think of the stories I would or would not tell with or without my anonymity. It's a strange blade we slide on.

[Margaret (Nanny Goats)]

This post struck a chord with me because my latest post brings up the issue of being 50 or 60 and still mooching off their parents.

Also, I have family members who have pilfered, swindled, etc. their parents' entire fortune and the parents therefore have a very sucky last few years of life.

Perhaps your ability to blog anonymously is helping you from going more crazy than you feel you already are. If so, keep writing - you write so well.

[Jo]

We have a few of those in my family. Except it's not just a financial drain, it's an emotional well-being drain. Or both, in turns. Anyway.

I get you.