Dreamscape Psychoanalysis

Searching. Searching. Searching. Where are they?

"Mo-om! What have you done with my dance costumes?"

"I threw them out."

"You what?"

"I threw them out. You need to find a nine-to-five job."

"Oh, my God! I have a shift tonight. Are you kidding me?"

"Too bad. You need to do what we want you to do."

"Can I at least have a ride to the job, so I can explain why I can't work tonight?"

"Yes, and when we're down town you can apply for a job as a clerk at the drugstore. I've already spoken with the owner."

Dad is driving. Mom is in the front seat. My sisters are in the back row seats and no one will sit next to me in the center row. It's nothing new. No one wants to be near me. They'd rather be stuffed like sardines in the back than sit next to "the dancer."

My sisters are laughing at me and at the loss of thousands of dollars of costumes that I've worked so hard to buy over the years of my dance career. They know I can hear them. That's the point.

"She's crying over a bunch of sleazy costumes because she's a whore," laughed my younger sister, who ended up marrying a gay guy who picks up men in bars to go "camping" with him.

"Yeah. She's so stupid. Didn't she know Mom was going to throw those nasty things away?" Said my older sister, who has always been a bully and would eventually get fired and sued by her school district for bullying her kindergarten students.

My youngest sibling was too afraid to disagree with the other two, so she piped up, "Yeah, yeah. Haha! You're right. They were pretty though." She ended up being in an abusive relationship that put my own bad ones to shame in its brutality. However, she was too embarrassed to tell anyone where the bruises came from.

I could hear the eye rolling from the back seat and the disgusted sighs.

My Dad was chugging out of a whiskey bottle as the car hurtled down the steep hill into the valley that was our down town. Bouncing from one curb to the other, no one mentioned his crazy driving or the fact that he was finishing off a fifth of bourbon while he was driving.

Mom just said, "Daddy drinks because of your sister's profession. He's going to kill himself and everyone else in the family because of her."

"Yeah. It's all her fault!" the trio in the back chorused into my ears, reminding me, once again, that all our family woes came from my existence.

The dream faded out when the alarm clock saved me from further humiliation. Upon reflection I realized that:

Our family was 100% perfect before I quit college to pursue my dance dream, which was their worst nightmare. The shame of it all, despite the fact that no one knew I had quit college to dance in nightclubs unless the family told them. I stayed out of town and changed my name to protect them. But it would never be enough.

Even though my Father drank every day, he didn't drink less after I left college. Even though my parents bickered constantly about his drinking, they didn't bicker less after I quit school. Even though my sisters were humiliated by me, they weren't humiliated any less now.

I was the inconvenient sibling.

The family's downfall.

The one never invited to family functions, such as weddings, anniversaries, birthdays or even funerals. When I came home the siblings would make sure I'd have more reasons to leave than to stay; and then, after I'd leave at their behest, they would tell the parents they didn't know why I couldn't just stay home.

It took fifty years for this to become clear to me in a random dream. The lonely seating. The whispers behind my back. The heavy drinking while driving and the bickering between my parents being blamed on me. The reason for the vitriole and hatred aimed at me now that I've been living a sedate, proper life for the past forty years.

I will always suffer for my intemperate youth. No amount of good living will ever wash away the anger and blame that was assigned to me for those ten plus years.

A silly dream opened my eyes and helped me forgive myself and understand why my family chose me to be the scapegoat for all things evil in their lives.

Unfortunately, the dream came years after I ceased caring. The ultimate revenge is when you no longer can muster anger, sadness or regret over bad relationships.