I don’t have a traditional television, as it were, and
therefore I rarely ever watch the news.
There’s just too much negative going on there for me to be able to
remotely think straight. I came home
from work yesterday only to find out that an EF5 tornado devastated Moore,
Oklahoma, and that some of those who died happened to be children. Beyond that I knew nothing. Went to bed last night and had a nightmare
about the event. Wasn’t really even
thinking about it before I went to bed.
Now, I’m not a parent by any means. Only wish I were much of the time. I have a character I created a long time ago
whom I’m pretty attached to, and so for all intents and purposes, I consider
him my son. He’s such a joy to have, and
some years ago, he just seemed to steal my heart. Don’t know how it happened, because I never
intended it to end up that way. Took me
a while to simply accept the facts, which is why he’s one of the only things in
this world that makes me smile.
Needless to say, I had a pretty powerful nightmare about
this devastating tornado incident. I
dreamed that I was out there among the debris field looking for my son and
quickly discovered his lifeless, pale body under a heap of rubble. I knew just by the sight of him that he wasn’t
breathing. Checked his pulse and nothing
was there, so I started to administer CPR with the scant hope that I just might be able to bring him back. I know I was doing this for several minutes,
but it seemed like an eternity. Before
long, I caught the attention of someone with a defibrillator and zapped him a
few times. Following the second round of
CPR, he came back briefly by coughing, but only seconds later did I lose him
again. I was reminded of that scene in The Abyss where Ed Harris is resuscitating
his wife while simultaneously screaming at her to fight. I was doing the same to my son after he
slipped away. I attempted CPR again,
this time frantically. Only shortly
thereafter did I realize it was not possible and lost my son.
Whilst in the dream I could remember uttering under my
breath, “You son-of-a-bitch, don’t do this to me, don’t take my baby.” I looked up to the heavens and said, “If you
don’t give me back my son right now, your days on that throne are numbered.” Of course, I was cursing God. After that, I immediately jerked awake and
was actively thinking, lying in state, what I was saying to God in the
dream. It seemed that, for a few
minutes, I could not tell whether it was a dream or if it really happened. I found myself crying after that – not for
very long, but crying still.
What’s weird to me is that this isn’t the first time where I’ve
had a nightmare about my Azly being seriously injured or killed in front of
me. This does happen, albeit rarely, and
last night was the first time where it happened in relation to a non-fictional
event. Maybe it was my unconscious self
attempting to feel the pain of those who actually did lose their kids in this
disaster, so that I might somehow begin to relate to them. Maybe it was a dream attempting to scare me with the reality of what could happen
to me as a parent. Whatever it was, it
seriously hurt. I can’t stand the
thought of anything bad happening to my babe.
I get extremely defensive about it without even so much as the sliver of
a thought.
It’s an unnatural course – parents are not supposed to bury
their children. And if that’s God’s idea
of a joke, then the man is truly a sick, twisted psychopath. What gives him the right to take my baby,
even inside of a nightmare?
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