where to begin
and dreams that reflect current nightmares
Welcome to the Sunday post.
In the dream last week, strangers—men, from what I could discern—were in my backyard. I closed the curtain and went to get the baseball bat in the corner. When I looked outside again, there were more of them. I tried to hold up the bat—my arms were useless. I went to get a shovel. Parting the curtain again I saw that the men had multiplied. I unlocked and opened the door, feeling defiant. I shouted at them. The shovel I held wasn’t steady, wasn’t going in any direction I willed it to go. The men didn’t seem to care. They coolly regarded me, some making a slow meandering approach toward the door. I shut and locked myself in again and went to get a gun.
When I opened the door again, my arms were noodles—I couldn’t hold the small gun steady, my grip felt too loose, and I had to shut myself behind the door again. All these tools, these weapons, but no way to use them.
I only slept from 1am-5am that night/morning, fitfully, going in and out of the same dream.
When the above tweet by Martha Crawford flew through my Bluesy timeline a few days ago, I immediately thought of a dream I’d had sometime between 2002-2004. I knew it was in my dreamoir, Bruja, so I opened the book to the index to search for the dream. It was listed under “Palestine.” Page 38.
So many of my dreams between 2001-2004 involved politics—local, state, domestic, and world. Natural disasters abounded. People threw bombs or planted them—including me. In one dream I knew I had to flee the country.
Different set of ingredients, different dreams emerge.
The dreams that have awakened me constantly this week have been eerie or threatening, like the one with the strange men multiplying in my backyard, and others have been more mundane. In a dream last night I was arguing with a friend. There was a feeling of unease. When I woke up I realized I hadn’t actually been arguing with this friend in real life—but I’d argued with them in the dream because of things they said on social media this week that made me question them.
I haven’t been in conversation much with anyone in the past couple of weeks. I’ve read and read and read, ingested numerous articles and memes and videos. There are a million bad takes. There are a million better and good takes. I find my mind scattered with the immediate—a water leak in a ceiling, my kid having to sleep in the living room until it’s repaired, the lost neighborhood cat, a car repair I need to attend to—mixed with the reality of ongoing and widespread grief and rage, a genocide occurring in real time, and a cascade of (burgeoning or solid) information as well as disinformation.
I’ve seen some deep hurt and anguish in the timelines. Not to sound totally reductive, but I have to imagine some or a lot of the gut reactions I’ve witnessed in the past week have been (transgenerational, familial, or other past-based) trauma responses, muted or full-throated. The distress and grief I’ve waded through has sometimes touched tender places in me, and then there are other posts that reflected a viciousness that I find indigestible. When I witnessed it turn vicious, I quietly unfollowed. I can imagine the despair someone might have been going through to become void of all compassion, but I don’t have to keep following.
I also don’t have to argue. As captured today on Bluesky, a sentiment I can agree with, first stated by Saeed Jones then amplified further:
During weeks like this one, when my dreams are infiltrated by a disturbing reality, I think of my therapist. When I’ve been the most anxious about the state of the world, she’s reminded me: What can you do locally? Do you know your neighbors, who has cancer, who needs a meal, who could use some help? Begin there.
An incomplete list, but among all I read this week in the cascade of news, opinions, etc. etc. ETC. that I appreciated (including some coming in as late as today):
“We Cannot Cross Until We Carry Each Other” by Arielle Angel
“Where the Palestinian Political Project Goes From Here” by Isaac Chotiner
“On Mourning and Statehood: A Response to Joshua Leifer” by Gabriel Winant
By Fariha Róisin—I highly recommend How to Cure A Ghost, of which I’m a paid subscriber:
And finally, another by Talia Lavin (I’m a paid subscriber/highly recommend):
Love and strength to everyone who’s hurting. 🖤