Bad Dreams

As I forge through my second week with Jenny, I find I have been passing some very difficult evening challenges. I've had two evenings in a row that I've wanted to EAT. Interestingly, I wasn't hungry. However, last night I was aware of Don's post cataract surgery condition (no problems) and was deeply concerned about Krista's illness.

I suppose it doesn't really matter how old your child is when they have been derailed by these sorts of illness; one always worries while trying to be reassuring. So I was hit by the challenge of comfort eating. Comfort eating has always been a way to distract myself from my immediate concerns. I got through it. Rewiring of the old habits continues but my brain got angry with me and in the middle of the night hit me with a nasty dream about my mother. Sometime during my sleep this night I was hit with a very troubling dream.

I found myself on the 3rd floor of a very long building. It appeared as though I entered from a middle entrance. Once I reached the 3rd floor I turned right and started down a long hallway. The hall was so long, starting at the mid-point of the building, that I could not see the information desk/nursing station I was seeking. Eventually I arrived.

When I arrived at the nursing station I was given my mother's room number. This alone seemed odd to me that I did not know her location ahead of time, just that she was there in the building. The room number was a 4 digit number with an 11 in there somewhere. The most disturbing part o f the dream was being told that the resident doctore would not see my mother or do anything to help her. This would have included care and comfort. From there the dream started to unravel and I never did see myself going in search of my mother's room.

I'm sure that on some level my brain was reacting in anger to my not giving in to the comfort eating impulse last night. Krista has been very sick as well with a viral infection an ulcer in her throat and badly swollen glands behind both ears. I have been wearing the mother hat of caring for my sick child and also remember clearly how out of control I felt to help my mother.