It’s has been exactly one week since my surgery. The only remarkable thing about that is the dreams I had after waking up…this is the first time I feel conscious about the post effects of that thing. The first day I was sleeping like 1 or 2 hours because the nurse was coming and going giving me painkillers. I remember dreaming about faces, crazy little things, I guess I had like 11 dreams but I only got on my mind the one that I had to prepare my taxes. When I told the nurse about it she said “the time is coming soon”.
When I got home I had two metaphorical dreams. It’s been like 5 years since I’m single, single because I got scared to get hurt, single because is difficult to me meeting people, single because life has no challenge in that way and so you’re not a loser but you just live, single because I didn’t want to dare or because I just abdicated before fighting. This dream was in fact a daily thing of my life with my ex, her frustration with my country and the way she was treated …the dream start like this. I see her, she is in a kind of studio, sitting and writing a list of things she spent money that “helped the Peruvian economy” and saying at the end ” I spent X amount of dollars in this country” , she was almost crying, so frustrated. This happened in our real, daily (and deadly life…so heavy to hear her every single time the same story). When I woke up I was first puzzled. Why did I dream of her? And second, I was disgusted to hear again complaining her American squared way of thinking, not because you spend money with people it means they will respect you, in some poor countries people will laugh at you and will steal you money so easily. That remained me the movie “Cooking with Stella” where a Canadian diplomat is constantly robbed and fooled by his two Indian servants …it was labeled as a comedy…a comedy for Indians since you see how stupid Canadians look and a drama for Canadian audience. Anyways, that dream had a signification that I will tell later when I write about the second dream.
The night after this dream, I had another more disturbing and meaningful dream. I was in Peru, in a the jungle, where, I’m not sure if subversives or militia group was training. I was with them. To be honest, it looked like Cuba, at some point the Che Guevara image showed up. Then, we heard we could leave the country because we were too subversives. So, at the heliport, yes, where a helicopter was waiting for us, I was standing there with my backpack and a rifle on my back. I saw my mother, I spoke to her and I hugged her saying her ” I have to go, this is my life”, I was serious when I said those words, my mother was emotional but I don’t remember if she cried when I said and then I just left. I didn’t feel any particular emotion when I hugged her, I meaning, nothing at all.
What is my unconscious trying to tell me? Trying? Not at all, it’s just crying out things to close…closing some painful chapters of my life. The meaning is clear now, finally clear. I realized the grieving period is over. At first I knew the things I didn’t want in life. Now, I know the things I want in life. It sounds a game wording but isn’t. My ex, her life, the way she controlled everything, my life, my feelings, my way to see the world, the way to see (and judge) the others…was suffocating me…choking me…and of course, after choking you get half paralyzed, handicapped, now is totally clear, totally over, I don’t want that in my life but at the same time I was putting all women in the same bucket. Not all lesbians will control you or will treat you miserably (some in Ottawa do but I won’t go to meet that group where being in their ghetto gathering is so marginalizing). I want to meet somebody but at the same time I’m starting to opening myself to people at work, at church, building some kind of friendship. It’s working, at turtle’s pace but is moving. Meeting people and have social life is a challenge.
The second dream is more significant to me. I cut all relationship with my mother since also 5 years ago since she didn’t accept my homosexuality. I don’t cry for that, I don’t care about it anymore. My father told 2 weeks ago she has been very sick but now she’s doing better. When he said that I wasn’t that concerned. There are things in life you can’t stop, life goes on, when you get older, your body is not the same. And if something tragic happens to her I won’t be that surprised. She has been mean but I feel compassion for her. I understand now many things about her, her modus operandi in love, and manipulation….just like my ex…I couldn’t defend myself because I was a kid, I couldn’t defend myself of being beat or insulted or compared or just being insulted…to be inferior, to make me feel inferior towards her and she could feel superior. Those days are over now. Life has been very hard here in Canada as an immigrant and as a lesbian…, that’s the metaphor of being in training and being subversive, to have my gun on my back, and my backpack ready to leave…to take the helicopter and change my life forever. Time to say good bye, to really say, bye to all that. My mother will never recover me, I will never have a mother, that space sometimes is fulled with my therapist’s role…a fake mother but a positive female image. Yes, I started to believe and think women aren’t evil or mothers aren’t all monsters, inheriting pain, traumas, psycho dramas or bad karma to their offspring, she, the therapist, without knowing it helped to believe and not generalized all people are bad, or, in my particular, women are bad, clueless or just manipulative people. I learnt finally a big lesson after this surgery, not only a big fibroid was extracted …I felt that my own body needed a new fresh start…from scratch. I didn’t have cancer or something like that…but I got the lesson of all this.
Life, destiny or the universe can express itself in different ways. My body suffered a positive transformation…my mind joined in this request…changing the direction, changing for good, changing, finally changing, finally nasty chapters were closed for changing and build something different and new.