Numb this morning.

I don't remember my dreams very often. When I do, they are usually very disturbing, and are something that haunt me throughout my day. So, I spend time thinking about them -- because I do feel like God or our bodies or whatever "speak" often through them -- not like a direct command, but like an open window into things we need to look at and examine.

Last night was a flood of upsetting, disturbing things. They involved probably everyone I know, and it each situation, I was antagonistic; argumentative; just this side of physically violent. I was saying things that I've never even thought of in my "conscious" state to people I love and admire. And today, even though I know it "was a dream," I am ashamed and saddened to think this crap is even in me.

My most vivid dreams were of my mom. Mom's been gone about a year and a half, and I think of her daily. We had an "O.K." relationship -- nothing bad. I know she loved me fiercely and deeply, and my only disappointment is that I'm not sure if she ever knew how much I loved her. I was never the "snugly, kissy" kind of kid. Pretty independent. A lot of complexities and shit from my childhood made me more standoffish. But it wasn't about her. And I think she knew that.

Last night, I had Mom back for a while. Think Mitch Albom's, "One More Day." (great read -- just be prepared for the "dealing" if you've lost someone you love). We were having a great time, doing things we use to do when I was young ... going out to lunch, laughing at the kids playing in the backyard.

But then slowly, something dark and unstoppable entered my dream. We started arguing over stupid things... I honestly can't remember. And suddenly, pieces of my mom's beautiful countenance started just peeling away. Chunks of her were tearing off, blowing away in a warm summer breeze. Still, I kept arguing with her. Inside of me, I knew I was wasting precious time. I knew she would soon look like a year and half old corpse, and she wouldn't be able to talk to me anymore. She tried to smile through this, but I could see the tears in her eyes. And still, I was hard and would not relent.

I woke up shaking, and my mind was flashing images like some independent movie release meant to blur the lines between reality and fantasy. I still can't shake it, and am almost afraid to face my day.

So, this morning, I'm trying to process. I think I know WHY I had this dream. We have people in the church who lost their mom this week. She was an amazing woman ... more drive and determination than most people half her age. Very active in bringing God's kingdom to earth in the lives of men who society has given up for lost. She and her daughter had -- what looked like -- a great relationship. But like all of us, there was "stuff," you know?

I've been very antagonistic toward my husband's involvement in this funeral process, not because of the woman who passed, but because of this daughter. No details, just "because." At least, that's what I've attributed my simmering feelings to.

But today, I think I've been playing the projection game, and putting my unsettled feelings about my own mom's death over onto this other lady. OK, so some of the stuff she's said and does pisses me off in the here and now. But I believe the bulk of what I'm experiencing is my own psyche still massively screwed up.

When a parent dies, there is this never ending hole leaving a vacant spot.through the middle of your soul. So, as time goes on, you fill that hole with things you need to survive -- good memories, photo scrap booking, your own family, self-medication ... you know. And I do a pretty good job of it: making it work between my vision of the living, and my memories of the dead. But I'm learning that the older I get, the harder it is to "pull it off." Still living within my own expectations of "how it should be," or worse yet, "how I should be." Constantly beating myself up for what I don't do, rather than putting my energies toward what I know I can and desire to do to make a difference in "the land of the living."

I guess, maybe, that's the message my mom brought me last night. It's cliche-ish at best, but it's about doing what you can do now ... letting the "dead bury the dead," and being about life. It's about building people here, not tearing them apart (or letting them do that to you) after they are dead.

No resolution. Just continued processing.