December 10, 2024

My grandparents and great-grandparents lived in separate houses on the same farm. I dreamt I was at my grandparents' house and my great-grandfather pulled a car into the driveway. He left a gallon of water out near the car and I got impatient waiting for him to come back so I could ask him for a drink. So I took the gallon up the hill and poured the majority of it into a small bucket from which I intended to drink. When he returned I explained I was thirsty, to which he made no argument in my apportioning myself some water, and we then walked over to my great-grandparents’ house. At their house I met other family members and talked to my grandfather about renovating their house because they had been… have been… looking after my kids. Comparing the lower floor to the upper floor to try to understand the structure by which potential modifications could be made, I heard my boys talking in their room and could feel my daughters' presence behind a separate closed door, presumably her own room.

Clock goes to the bathroom on the wall just after two in the morning. I guess it has been a while since I bothered to write about a dream. Here I am, about four and a half years away and still dreaming and crying over missing my kids. I think the best I can tell, that writing about it, or anything else, doesn’t seem to help. I suppose for me writing about things forces me to stay or revisit experiences or emotions that ail without remedy. Entangled in the chains between my head and my heart, I fail to improve and am worse from the start.