In my dream, I experience a cluster of events all surrounding my father and his behavior toward me. Decisions that he makes, that he doesn’t bother to tell me about, though they change my life. They embarrass me. They scare me. And most of all they make me so angry that I am shouting. Screaming at him. Spittle flies. My breath catches in my throat. I am shaking. I am choking on bile and rage. I scream: “Look at me! SEE ME!”
And then along with my mother, her look back impassive, nonchalantly he walks away.
I wake with pain behind both eyes, daggers. pointing. through my retinas out the front of my face I am sure. Heart aching. I can’t do anything about it. Slowly the rage slips away to wherever it goes in between Rage Dreams.
I’m an over thinker and incessant seeker. I’m grateful for God’s grace. This is a quiet, contemplative blog. I write poetry, and essays and offer my photographs.
I hope you will stay and read a while.
All photography and words are mine, unless noted. Find me on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.
View all posts by Melody Harrison Hanson