Photograph by Enric Adrian Gener
I have to talk about this dream I had this morning, even though I can’t remember most of it. It was absolutely beautiful, but I don’t understand it.
All I remember was that I was swimming, as naked as the day I was born, in what seemed to be a shallow sea or a coral reef in some beautiful, tropical place. I moved like a fish, smoothly and swiftly, completely in the moment. Feeling completely weightless, I turned somersaults over and over. I grazed my fingers in the silt-like sand when I dove toward the bottom, and I could feel the weight of the azure water in my palm like a small ball as I moved along. Schools of thousands of colorful, iridescent fish swam alongside me, glittering in the muted sunlight far above. I worried about nothing. I didn’t seem to ever have to come up for air and it seemed like I could just swim like this forever. I never felt more happy or free.
Here’s the weird thing. I was swimming with my mother! That’s right, the same one who emotionally abused me my entire life and who will never change or even become aware of her narcissism. The one who turned me into a borderline and a narcissist! Not once have I ever felt comfortable or at ease with this woman and I intend to remain No Contact with her until the day one of us dies.
But in the dream, we were swimming together, and I felt this unconditional love not only for her, but for everyone and everything in the world. And I felt like she felt the same way as I did, and we just swam together, naked, happy and free.
Maybe she represents the part of myself I’m rejecting, or my narcissistic inner voice that is really my mother’s nagging voice. Maybe that part of me is learning to love and accept my true self and my mother and I swimming together means some integration is taking place in my soul.
I have to remember to tell my therapist about this dream. I think it’s important. I’m so happy I finally get to see him tomorrow, after three very long weeks. It’s been near-torture not being able to talk to my therapist.