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The Thief of Dreams
Dec. 24th, 2020 09:39 amDad's birthday yesterday, I tried to reach out to him. Got nothing; not surprising really, it's been 5 years. Whether he's nothing or stardust or in Heaven/Hell/Purgatory or a ghost child playing on the shores of Tighnabruaich or a reincarnated lion cub in the Savuti, there was no moment, no flash of him in my mind's eye, no dream of his face.
Instead the dream last night was one of having a considerable amount of money stolen from me. At first I thought it might be a subconscious mistrust of my father's second wife, who doubtless took all she could, but it is likely that Dad didn't arrange anything. Even he did, he would rightly have favoured his most vulnerable child. It's a shame if something dodgy happened there but we're fine.
No, I think it is an expression of the deep anger I feel at having my status as a EU member removed from me. There looks to be a deal this morning and Boris will spin it desperately. I thought it would happen because President Elect Biden is said to want it, and Johnson cannot afford to cross him whether it alienates the ERG or not. The crook's gold that is Brexit! How many people rely on me not blowing my stack and saying that I consider them the dupes of thieves or thieves themselves? How many people would be upset if I expressed my contempt and fury? Not many, but those affected would be extremely affected. So I hold back.
Ugh. I hate the way I must never say these things because true or not they are cruel. I must try not to hurt people, I must try not to be like Dad who, if angry, would have exploded and carried on exploding until all around him were pumping blood and guts - this last more literally than it should be in a civilised society. He had many problems but fear of consequence wasn't among them.
But confrontation braces and in its expression may also relax. Holding back is what hurts. Those who suggest 'let it go,' for a given value of it, actually never mean throw it out of your mouth and heart as far as you can, roar it and scream it and punch it and force it away from you (how strange, a door just slammed! R's asleep...) and see if it disappears into thin air or hits the ground like a grenade. No, they actually mean keep things comfortable. They mean Forget or Avoid.
Christmas Eve and I must remember and hold onto the benign, the generous, the bright, all qualities which could also be ascribed to Dad.
I will say it here though; Much as I like Scotland, much as I could grow to love Scotland, I wish we lived further away from England. Apart from important and very dear friends, I have nothing to care for in what the place is becoming. If reincarnation exists and we do have multiple lives, I really hope this is my last connection with the place. Maybe that's it, maybe I am the reincarnation of a half way competent administrator, maybe I was Cecil or Peel or Disraeli... In which case, this would certainly be a perfect punishment, and the mighty have not so much fallen as thrown themselves headlong into a barrel of bats on a burning trampoline.
Instead the dream last night was one of having a considerable amount of money stolen from me. At first I thought it might be a subconscious mistrust of my father's second wife, who doubtless took all she could, but it is likely that Dad didn't arrange anything. Even he did, he would rightly have favoured his most vulnerable child. It's a shame if something dodgy happened there but we're fine.
No, I think it is an expression of the deep anger I feel at having my status as a EU member removed from me. There looks to be a deal this morning and Boris will spin it desperately. I thought it would happen because President Elect Biden is said to want it, and Johnson cannot afford to cross him whether it alienates the ERG or not. The crook's gold that is Brexit! How many people rely on me not blowing my stack and saying that I consider them the dupes of thieves or thieves themselves? How many people would be upset if I expressed my contempt and fury? Not many, but those affected would be extremely affected. So I hold back.
Ugh. I hate the way I must never say these things because true or not they are cruel. I must try not to hurt people, I must try not to be like Dad who, if angry, would have exploded and carried on exploding until all around him were pumping blood and guts - this last more literally than it should be in a civilised society. He had many problems but fear of consequence wasn't among them.
But confrontation braces and in its expression may also relax. Holding back is what hurts. Those who suggest 'let it go,' for a given value of it, actually never mean throw it out of your mouth and heart as far as you can, roar it and scream it and punch it and force it away from you (how strange, a door just slammed! R's asleep...) and see if it disappears into thin air or hits the ground like a grenade. No, they actually mean keep things comfortable. They mean Forget or Avoid.
Christmas Eve and I must remember and hold onto the benign, the generous, the bright, all qualities which could also be ascribed to Dad.
I will say it here though; Much as I like Scotland, much as I could grow to love Scotland, I wish we lived further away from England. Apart from important and very dear friends, I have nothing to care for in what the place is becoming. If reincarnation exists and we do have multiple lives, I really hope this is my last connection with the place. Maybe that's it, maybe I am the reincarnation of a half way competent administrator, maybe I was Cecil or Peel or Disraeli... In which case, this would certainly be a perfect punishment, and the mighty have not so much fallen as thrown themselves headlong into a barrel of bats on a burning trampoline.
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