Demon elephants are mucking up my living room... film at 11

I’m one of those people who dreams. A lot. Both the day kind and the night kind.

And while I can control the day kind, the night kind is more of a renegade. Those dreams. A different beast. Sometimes silly, sometimes inscrutable, sometimes crazy. Those I can process. Then leave behind, save for recounting the most interesting ones.

It’s the scary dreams I have a hard time leaving behind. Especially the ones with recurring themes.

And I have one in particular that haunts my very soul.

It involves Will. Dying. Young.

The moment I realize what’s happening in my subconscious is a tough one, as I fight like hell to wake up to stop the tragedy from playing out. Sometimes I’m successful. Sometimes not so much.

I had one of these dreams the other night. Days later, I happened to mention it to The Mister in casual conversation.

He got very quiet, then told me he had a similar nightmare. Except it involved us dying, leaving Will alone. Uncared for. Homeless and vulnerable.

Sent a shiver up my spine. Pierced my soul. Careened tears rolling down my cheeks

Even now.

And while we’re taking steps to prepare for Will’s financial future – a will, a trust, prudent planning – the future in general is daunting and frankly, a little terrifying from this perspective.

We do not know exactly what Will shall be as he matures and grows older. But I am realizing that our less-than-standard issue path is going to continue. And while I privately mourn little things that I once took for granted, I know I need to check all my guilt of the past and my uncertainty of the future at the door for the sake of Will’s present. So that his issues of the past can be handled in order for his future to be as brightly maximized as possible.

It’s not easy.

It makes me pensive.

And more than a little blue.

But it is what it is.

I hate the elephants in the room. Hate them. Wouldn’t wish them on anyone. And it seems addressing them doesn’t make them any more pleasant.

I just need to resign myself to the fact that they’re there. Get prepared to clean up the shit that they drop (and boy, do elephants shit a lot.) And figure out how to carry on. Bravely.

For Will.

Always for Will.


bronsont said...

Jane, I've told you before about my childhood neighbor who was a Down's Syndrome child. His parents had the exact same worries you have, but with their love, and with schooling set to his needs, he outlived both of them and enjoyed a good and productive life.

He passed at 60 and was, at the time, living in a group home and working at a job he loved.

Will is still a little bird and I have confidence that his growth and maturity will come. You will be just as proud of his achievements as I am of my son's :)

Tara R. said...

I have the same worries for my son, but haven't addressed that elephant yet. It's almost as if I make those plans, they will have to be implemented. I don't want to even think about leaving him alone.

NotAMeanGirl said...

My Darlin' Janey,

Will is so lucky to have parents that love and care about/for him as you and the Mr. do. He'll never understand what went into securing his future... and that's as it should be.

I adore you for being such a great mom and fantastic person!

TopSurf said...

You are a wonderful parent, both you and your husband are. You are doing a great job.
Will has made such great strides and I have no doubt that with your loving touch he will continue to do so.
I wish I could make your nightmares go away and be there to give you a hug.
*a ton of love and hugs to you*

karin said...

Oh Jane....You and the Mister are such amazing parents. Nightmares like that tear at your soul and don't let go.

Rest assured, Will would never be alone. If every member of your families was swept away in a fell swoop, Will would STILL have family and love...here on the left coast.

I wish I could take all of your nightmares away. *hugs*

Ruprecht said...

Parenting. I don't recall signing up for it.

But this I do know: I'm all the better for having done so. No matter what.

And so are they.

There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings. ~Hodding Carter, Jr.

AsKatKnits said...

Jane, No comment I make could add anything to the beautiful comments posted by others.

However, I send off my love and hugs to you and my wish that no nightmares ever disrupt your sweet slumber ever again.