The Stuff of Dreams

I awoke early this morning from one of my funky dreams. The ones I know are trying to tell me something. I just couldn't fully put my finger on it. The dream was my Mom and myself watching a movie in a theater. She turns to me and tells me that my breathe stinks. I turn to her and tell I'm not even speaking. She goes that it's even worse.

So I awake knowing I'm talking shit about my Mom, but what about. Well when I walked out of her meeting this morning with her caregivers I knew what it was. I've been experiencing a lot of muscle pain the last few days and even my friend yesterday said what's up with your Mom? I started getting my heads up during the meeting when I'm talking about the future and all the bad stuff that will come to pass and I'm smiling. That fuckin' smile that says everything is alright because I'm smiling. Such and old coping mechanism. My Mom is healthy as a horse, but the mini strokes are slowly taking her away. Memory, movement, speech all are slowly being robbed with each one. So we talked about a splint for her right hand since it no longer works so it wouldn't contract in time. I visit my Mom's unit often so I see the long term residents. The living dead posed in their silent screams.

I use to visit my Grandmother often until she had a stroke which left her completely insane. I didn't think I would be able to see her in her new personality, but she died later that week so it was a bridge I never crossed. I'm not looking forward to this because I know it's going to be a long trip. So I'm tense, sad, and stressed out today.