Dreams About Birth Inevitably Turn To Thoughts of Death

I had a dream about my mother this morning. We were on a native reservation somewhere in the woods. My friend Jeanette Garcia was there. We were working all together, gathering sticks and binding them together in bundles. On the path ahead of me sat a small round piece of drift wood. As I reached for it, it turned into an owl, spoke to me (words I don't remember) and then flew away. I turned to my mother and she had streaks of blood along her thighs. The streaks of blood became earthworms and I knew from that her time had come. We put her in a birthing chair in a small smokey room and the baby began to push its way out. I heard one of the elder men say from outside the tent that my mother needed to birth a "workhorse". I knew by that he meant a boy baby. The baby slid out into my arms and as I was trying to clear its mouth I poked one of its fragile eyes. It began to cry and sputtered out amniotic fluid. I noticed it was a girl. Donovan tried to hug it and I told him the baby was covered in blood and he should wait for me to clean it. He then tried to cut the umbilicus and I told him he must clamp it first. I remember thinking that this work was enjoyable and fulfilling and that I should get an apprenticeship under my friend Kamy Shaw. She would help me learn. My mother began cramping again and I assured her it was only the placenta passing. I left her to get a bowl big enough to hold it and that part of the dream phased into another one about a double decker carousel with fairies.

The thing is, on the surface of it I understand consciously why my mother may have been pregnant in the dream. Because her liver and kidneys aren't functioning her abdomen is filled with fluid and terrifically swollen, even as her limbs and face are wasting away. This "fluid filled abdomen" is exactly what it is to be pregnant. The fact that she had a baby girl instead of the "workhorse she needed" indicates that I feel like a failure to her. That as a weak woman suffering from RA I am much more ineffectual in helping her than if I had been born a strong boy. The thing that concerned me the most was the presence of the earthworms and the owl. I have been taught that these are symbols of imminent death and as I have always believed, death is also a form of rebirth, thus leading back to the birthing sequence. In essence, I delivered my mother from the womb of my own mother. I am then called to look at the word "Delivered" and understand that it has multiple connotations, one of which is to rescue one from a bad situation. So, here I am knowing what it all means but wondering if it was all made up by my subconscious or if the universe planted the seed in my mind to help me prepare for my mother's death being sooner than I thought.

I did call her this morning and my father said she was fine. The dream still has me in a very thoughtful mood this morning, however.

Howling For All The Wrong Reasons

The doctor says I have shingles. They itch really badly and I've been promised by multiple people that pain will probably follow. The doctor also said that stress can cause them. I told her about my mother and about my new puppy and about Loki the cat's insane pink eye. Then I looked her straight in the eye and told her it probably was stress after all.

Mother called a couple times today. She is still fully convinced that she will die tonight. I told dad she needs to put her advanced directive on file at the hospital just on the off chance she gets put back into the hospital which is really very likely considering they would have put her back in today if a bed had been available. Both the numbers in her blood pressure are in the double digits and the home health nurse says that her kidneys are shutting down. Dad says everything will get better if they can just get her hydrated and back on the milk thistle. She has tricked us so many times that I really don't want to believe her when she says she is going to die tonight but part of me says if anyone is going to know wouldn't it be her? Then again, a very dear friend said that its possible its just the dementia talking and that she could have years left.

BUT it rained tonight and I'm watching a biopic about Allen Ginsberg and his poem "Howl". The puppy is curled up beside me asleep and Mike made a wonderful green chili crusted grilled salmon and latkes for dinner so my tummy is full. The night is cool and I'm contented. If mom passes on tonight its what she wants and if she doesn't then that is just as well because it means that I get to spend more time with her.

Gods and goddesses bless us with whatever is best for us now.