Dreams

I had a dream last night that left me a little shaken.

I dreamed I was in a vehicle with several people and we were driving down a highway. There was another vehicle behind us and we were going to our destination together. Suddenly we heard some loud noises and as we looked off to our left, over a grove of trees about a mile away, we could see planes and helicopters flying in, dropping bombs. Our country was under attack. The rest of the details are sketchy, but the dream went on for some time. And I even woke up, went back to sleep, and the dream continued. I remember feeling fear and worrying about family members. At one point in the dream, Logan was backing my van out of a parking space. He had Maddie and some other children with him, and for whatever reason he HAD to go and take these kids somewhere. It wasn't an option to not go. I watched him back the van out from a 2nd story apartment window, and after they had driven off, I retreated to a closet with a hidden door in the back where, apparently, we had been hiding out.

I know this dream is weird and the details are bizarre, but here is the point of this post.

I woke from the dream and Jerry was not in bed. And for just a few seconds, I wondered if we really were under attack and if he had gone to gather the kids. And then I wondered if maybe the rapture had happened and I was left behind for some reason. And for just a few seconds, my heart raced out of control.

And then I realized that there are people in other countries who live that dream every single stinking day. They never know when they might be separated from their families. They don't know when the helicopters are going to appear on the horizon, dropping bombs onto their city. Their fear is real. Mine was a dream.

I am not anti-war, please don't take it that way. I believe we have good reasons to be fighting.

But I am also very grateful today for a country that is safe.

My Mother

My mom was in the hospital last week. Basically her dementia is increasing. The on-call doctor let her go home on Sunday. Basically she fooled him into thinking she was ready.

My sister and I are struggling with her doctor, who seems to be a push over. He is not forceful in what he tells my mom, it's more like he suggests some things. He didn't seem overly concerned today that by 11am she had taken all of her meds for the entire day (this is a lot). Or that she didn't take any meds at all for 2 days last week.

My mom is becoming more belligerent. She told the nurse she didn't want her coming to the apartment anymore.

She is not impossible to talk to, but it's getting to be that way. She says stuff that is so off the wall. Last week she thought Maddie was driving my van and that my sister was out of town on a trip. She forgot that she had a car, unless she was just pulling my leg and I'm not really sure which it is.

There are times when she is very coherent and sounds strong. Most of the time she seems to be covering things up.

These memory/medical issues are just a piece of the puzzle. Another piece is her apartment which apparently looks like a trash heap according to my sister. There is one place to sit in the living room. The couch is full of knick knacks. The walls are full, the tables are full, the floor is full. At this point it isn't piles of things like you see in the hoarding shows. But it is all of her treasures spread everywhere. The walls are loaded with pictures. She has several chimes hanging on pegs by her front door, including one with motorcycles. Yeah, my 73 year old mother is really into Harleys. I seriously am dreading the day I have to go visit her. I remember what it felt like to move her into there and to have to see all of her junk. It made my blood pressure rise and made me nearly ill. And my sister says it is now 10 times worse.

All of these behavior changes in my mom make me crazy. When I am talking to her on the phone, it feels like I want to take the phone and throw it. I just can't seem to get off of there quick enough. I am not handling her craziness very well.

But it is causing me to do lots of thinking about myself. And my family. And my dad. She was never like this when dad was around. Of course that was 26 years ago. She would never have junked up our home like that.

Her behavior makes me angry almost. Maybe more than almost. But why am I angry? Why do I feel physically ill in the midst of her junk?

I wonder if it is because I am losing my mom, who honestly has never been much of a mom. She did a good job keeping our home clean, keeping my dad happy, and keeping us kids clean and fed well. But when it comes to the emotional care-giving, it just never happened. So I don't have a whole lot invested in this relationship. But even as it stands, she is the only mom I know. And I am losing her. And I seem to be coming to the reality that any phone conversation I have with her could be the last. Not because she is close to death, but she is slipping into oblivion quickly. And when I think about losing my mom, I realize that she is the last bit of my dad that I have. And that makes me even sadder.

There are so many thoughts swirling in my head. I'm not sure any of them make sense. But I'm trying to listen closely and process wisely. And see what God is trying to teach me in the midst of this valley.