Patinaed Dreams

I rarely remember dreams. I think it's because my brain is overactive and doesn't need any extra exercise. My brain is lean and muscle-tight. And exhausted. So it usually goes right to sleep like a good girl.

Last week I had a startling-clear, remember-every-detail, continue-to-bother-you-for-a-week, why-exactly-did-I-dream-in-copper-green-patina, WHAT-THE-HECK-DID-THAT-MEAN? kind of dream.

But, of course, I know what it means.

I was in the car with my dad; he was driving (my dad always drives in my dreams. What frightening things would Freud say about that?). We turned a corner onto a private road leading up to a house (do you see where this is going?). Only, the road was not even as wide as the car and held up on impossibly tall stilts over a bottomless black hole. Dad turned another corner, and the car tipped off the road. We went down. Down. Down.

And I leaned back in my seat and smiled and open-mouth smile of pure joy. I was so. Happy.

So, am I highly disturbed that I dreamed about being ecstatic that my life was ending? Yep. But not exactly surprised. Princess has been taking the move HARD. Well, that's not exactly accurate. Princess is not dealing with the move cognitively. She is dealing with the move by beating the sh*t out of me and her room and any belonging of someone else. She is dealing with the move by screaming that I don't take care of her because taking care of someone means you give them what they want and that she's going to call the police to tell them I'm hurting her and that I'm not treating her the way I want to be treated. For five hours at a stretch. She is dealing with the move by pulling a smack-down on any sibling who says or does something she doesn't like. Such as breathe too loud.

And then, after a week-plus straight, had a perfectly lucid day, complete with a perfectly lucid expression of her insides: "Mom? I'm happy and sad about moving. I'm sad because I'll miss S and L and I like this house, but I'm happy because I'll have my own room and I don't know what else, but after I get used to it I might even like the new house more."

What was THAT??? I would understand if she was always a "regular kid." I would understand if she was always a combative beast who hates my guts and everything holding them inside me. But I don't get how she can claw, bite, hit, pinch, kick, destroy, and spew hate for days on end, then WHAM!!! pull out the normal kid that in there somewhere under a pile of fallen boxes. What is it???

We'll own the house Friday. We'll move in next weekend. And then school will start. In the meantime, I'll just go ahead and fall down my crevice with a giant ridiculous smile on my face.