I was woken last night by a scary dream. I know that nightmares and PTSD go hand in hand, but this wasn’t the usual triggery flashbacky hell. It scared me, though, and I can’t make sense of it, so I thought I’d post it here and see if any of you can make any sense of it.
In the dream, I was up in the hills with my mother. We were on trains and out in the bush and making tea and listening to news about some gangsters on the run. There were cats there, too – specifically a little ginger cat. It’s the third time this week I’ve dreamed about animals (once about elephants and twice now about cats).
Then my father appeared, out of nowhere, as often happens in dreams. He was upset because these mafia-type guys were coming to get him (not the ones we’d heard about on the news). They were big guys, taking him away somewhere, and he didn’t want to go. And I was fiddling with a little plastic something (not sure what it was, just remember the feel of the plastic).
What freaked me is that I was also a bit upset because my father was upset. Not so much in the dream where I was just telling him it would be ok, but when I woke up. The only thing I can possibly relate it to in the real world is the seemingly endless conversation I have with my mother about it being passed time Dad went into a nursing home. But I haven’t had that conversation for ages. What the…?
No one said dreams had to make any sense, but this one … weird.