july 26, 2016
last night, I had a dream that I was at a restaurant with my family, but my stepfather refused to let me have any food. i’ve had a lot of dreams about my stepfather since his death, more than I would like to admit. it bothers me greatly, because they are all either violent or upsetting. for example, i’ve been shot by him in a dream. i’ve been stabbed in the gut by him in a dream. i’ve also been taunted by him in a dream. what’s worse is that I can never do anything to him. in one of my dreams I shouted at him and told him what a piece of shit he was, and this was the only dream where I seemed able to defend myself at all.
you don’t need freud to understand these dreams. I have a deeply-rooted resentment against this man. my stepfather, not freud. try as I might to forgive and let go, he is responsible for my lingering cowardice and self-doubt. I hated him so much that I moved halfway across the world, knowing full well I would never see him again. I wanted it that way. I knew from a very early age that I would never care for him and never care about him.
in his death, he was absolved, but I suppose that scar tissue remains. I do not think about him from day to day. hell, I try not to think about my family at all in spite of my mother’s terminal cancer. it’s all poetic to me. this is almost like a bible story from the old testament.
but last night’s dream brings an important issue to light: inheritance. I keep thinking of all the ways that I could be screwed out of what my mother has left for me in her will. it’s supposed to be a 50-50 deal, with a life insurance policy, a home with the value of roughly a quarter of a million, and whatever savings she may have, split between my brother and i.
let me contextualize this a bit.
my mother was very vocal about hating my stepfather’s parents. in the years leading up to their passing, she quite openly announced that she could not wait for them to die. clearly she felt she was owed something, because before grandmother was in the ground that entire side of the family was rifling through her belongings. even though that grandmother hated me, I seemed to be the only one with any respect or sympathy for the departed. I felt it was in poor taste for everyone to just go ripping through her house, and it was exacerbated by my parents showing up with a moving van full of shit that I didn’t want.
and they got their money. nobody knows how much, but my parents paid off all their bills and moved into a nice home in minnesota, making an enormous down payment in a private neighborhood. but what happened? after only a few years my stepfather croaked, and my mother fell terminally ill. like I said, brother, bible story.
so here we are, present day. though we don’t say it to each other, my brother and i are both keeping tabs on my mother’s illness like vultures. we’ve both got our plans for the money, though mine are a bit more urgent that my brother’s. I won’t get into the particulars, but my money would basically clear up my student loan debt and enable me to take a little bit more control over my life.
and that, dear friend, is the real meaning of the dream.
i’ve never had any control. i’ve always been deprived by my family. I sat back and watched my family give my brother everything, while I could scarcely get a handout half of the time. I was always treated like a bastard, and even though I moved halfway around the world, I am still trapped in the family drama. honestly, I don’t want to lose my mother. I want the poetic reckoning. i’m content to pay my bills down myself.
but I know it isn’t going to happen, and that is why I am so uptight about it all. i’ll just go ahead and say it: I want that fucking money, and I absolutely hate myself for it. there is a part of me that simply wants to work my way out of this debt on my own. there is a part of me that knows I deserve all the silly shit that happens to me, and I want to pay the man for all the bullshit I have done. however, the other side of me says I deserve that fucking money and the chance at a clean slate.
I don’t know how it is going to turn out, but I will admit to the suspicions I hold. my brother is trying to play the pious one, an act that has worked so well in the past. my parents could not lift a finger to help me at so many stages when I was struggling, and when they did throw me a bone I would look over at my brother getting free vehicles and his rent paid in spite of an ignominious failure to launch.
ah, but when has rumination solved anything?
i’m sick of the dreams, though. I have a stepfather dream at least once a month, and have since his death. they’re violent and extremely dark. even though he is dead and buried, that man still manages to affect me.