Ok, last night was one awful night. Think I may have been feverish (was feeling pretty feverish and out of it - fuck felt like I was dosed up on fuck knows what 'cause I was so out of it, may have been the cold&flu tablets I was on, don't know), as my dreams seemed to be all over the place and seemed more delerious than anything.
First off, I saved a capital city in Australia from a terrorist nuclear bomb, by finding where the bombs were (there were four "bombs" that looked like green sticks of dynamite
) and I put them on a mountain so that they couldn't hurt any one and ran down the mountain to safety, only the mountain exploded and I was happy 'cause no people had got hurt by the terrorists. Talk about crazy.
Then my daughter got kidnapped by my X, she was younger in my dream, about 3 years old, and I was wandering through a war torn land (don't ask me which one) calling out for her, looking in shops, crying, looking for her... a beggar girl came up to me and kept pulling my clothes trying to get me to come with her, and at first I just thought she wanted money, but then I followed her, and she took me through an old archway and on the otherside of the archway was a beautiful garden, a magical garden with a fairy queen, and the garden happened to look over the city and the beggar girl pointed to where my daughter was. So I went and rescued her...
Then all of a sudden I was sitting next to my X's boss, and I had the hijab and niqab and all the rest on. Anyways, he turns to me and says, "What are you doing for Islam? What are you doing for your deen?"
I reply, "I am trying to make my husband happy," I say this in a resigned sort of way, like I am sad but what else can I do?
He says, "But what are you doing for Islam?"
And I reply, "Marriage is half of one's deen, so I'm trying to make my husband happy. If my husband is happy with me, Allah will let me go to Jannah, and if my husband is unhappy with me, I will go to Jahannam. I don't think I'll ever be able to make him happy with me though."
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Then my daughter is the age she is now, and a cop car pulls up in the driveway. She's walking up the driveway with her hands in cuffs behind her back. I'm like WTF. I ask the cops what has happened, and they say that they had to arrest her 'cause her teacher called them to come and arrest her 'cause she was singing a nursery rhyme. I ask them why didn't any one call me? And how can they arrest a child for singing a nursery rhyme? They shrug their shoulders, and un-cuff her and toodle off. And I'm furious, so fucking furious, how dare they? How dare the teacher? Talk about fucking mental. How come the school didn't call me? My daughter sits on the couch, she looks like she's going to cry and I cuddle her. I start planning, (a) going to pull her out of school, and (b) going to fucking have a fucking WORD with the teacher.
Next thing you know, my daughter is attending sessions with a psychologist, and the psychologist has called me in and says, "Have you called your daughter "selfish"?
"Kind of," I say.
"How can you say such a thing to one of your own children?" she says,
"Do you have children?" I ask.
"No," she says.
"Well how would you fucking know or understand then... you come live with us for a week and you can see why I told her that her behaviour is selfish. For starters, yesterday _________ had a complete meltdown 'cause her brother got to play a game on the computer before her. He's never gotten to play a game on the computer before, and she screams at me about how unfair it is 'cause he gets to play on the computer first, when she actually gets to play on the computer everyday after school. She screams at him and pinches him until he gets off of the computer so that she can play on it. That
is selfish. If it was an adult doing it, it would be selfish, if it was any other kid doing it, it would be selfish, and when she does it, I'm going to tell her that it is a selfish thing to do. Maybe it's not the best parenting, but I'm trying really hard here to do the right thing with my kids. Why don't you tell me what I can do better?"
The psychologist just writes down on a piece of paper, taking notes with a not-very-impressed look on her face, and I'm just thinking fuck, I thought this session was to be as something to help my daughter cope with the whole getting arrested thing, not so that the psych can take notes on me telling my daughter that her behaviour was selfish.
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There's a heap of other dreams I had that I can't remember right now, just fragments of them. Just glad to be feeling a bit better. What a fucking night.
Topic: Crazy ass dreams