Dream triggered by CS memorial, relating back to childhood

Not sure if this dream really fits in this blog but I wanted to write it down while I am still worked up about it.

First of all, people in the dream talk about wanting Mirabel to be better taken care of, I wanted to clarify that Mirabel is standing in for myself and the twins when we were little - I don't think anyone could stand up and say anything bad about Mirabel or David and Segen, like this. David is doing a great job. My dad did a great job too.

So the beginning of this dream, I was in a library - I think it was the Valley City library but it was bigger. People from high school who I recently connected with on Facebook were there, like Troy Durham, others, but no one was talking to each other because it was a library. I thought I would touch base with them later.

Some other stuff happened and then the whole thing changed to a big auditorium. It was a church service, but with people more like the ones we went to church with in the past, not UUFRC people. But Julia was the minister.

I was up in the balcony of the auditorium (or a stadium? Like Billy Graham) and there was a time announced for Joys and Sorrows/like comments.

This older couple were sitting near me and the woman stood up and said that she just wished those Stoutamire kids were better taken care of. That they looked all messy. She didn't offer anything to help the situation (even if it was true).

I could not believe she would say something like that! So I stood up and said something like "How dare you! She's just a little girl! I think she looks fine. Shut up!"

And I sat down and thought - "wow, now all these people will hate me, they probably agree with her, and it's me who's the freak show". At least I thought it was over.

But Julia stopped the whole show and said something like - we really need to talk about this, and asked me to continue talking more. (Here I think Julia has probably morphed into Cornelia, my therapist).

So I talk more and I say, "Even if she did need that kind of help, and I don't think they do, then offer something that will help! Go over and see her more often, or do something, but else just shut up! How can you say something like that! Aargh!"

People did turn around and give me supporting looks so I didn't feel as alone but part of me was still so angry at that woman. Who let her into this place? How could she be so superficial and judgmental? Did she not know what had happened? WTF!!!!

(my suspicions that people were thinking stuff like this about us probably kept me from wanting any kind of organized religion where you have to "dress up" and come to church).

Sometime after this I woke up and I was still mad at that f'ing woman.
Who was she to say anything like that? I realized that obviously she wasn't anyone at UUFRC - I think she represents people at our church/town that I was afraid were thinking this about us when we were growing up.

We probably did look like the "wild women from Borneo" more than my mom would have wanted, but it felt like we were doing our best. I had the feeling that people were judging us (or at least pitying us) - watching us walk back and forth to and from the Care Center every day in the summer, etc. Very few offered us rides, only the people who knew us, probably to avoid us being freaked out by accepting rides from "strangers".

"you can do it, kiddo"

Today is Charlotte's memorial. The clarinet quartet, now dubbed "The Charlonets" after last night, is ready to go.

I woke up this morning not feeling very ready to go at all. Being a grown-up and one of the supports (hopefully ), in this really hard time, was feeling overwhelming. Plus hosting Ian and Jo, talking to Lisa about the photos, trying to help David if I can (who is the "onsite coordinator" for the service? I don't know).

And hoping everything will go well and David and the kids will have this as a relatively good memory that represents Charlotte, or at least tries to. (Note that I think the only thing I remember from Mom's funeral was Pastor Darrell's closing about the end of The Last Battle, and being so impressed that he actually read it).

In the midst of all this overwhelm I hear a voice in my head saying "you can do it, kiddo". Which I think must be from Mom since really I don't know Charlotte well enough for it to be Charlotte.

Or maybe it was both of them in a chorus. Anyway, I guess the real answer is that it is the part of me that holds my mom inside and tries to preserve her.