The Dream

I have a recurring dream. In my dream, something terrible is happening. The world is ending, a volcano is erupting, I am being hunted or abused. The threat varies though it’s usually apocalyptic in nature. However, there is one variable that remains constant. My family is with me, and my parents won’t listen to me. I tell them not to go up the mountain because I can see it is actually a volcano about to erupt; they laugh and continue on. There are zombie hordes descending upon us, and I tell my parents how to avoid them, and they ignore me. A serial killer is hunting me, and they scoff.

I have had this dream maybe 100 times. They laugh, they ignore, they scoff, they belittle, and I wake up feeling sad.

It’s not just a dream for me. It’s a manifestation of a lifetime of feelings about how my parents regard me. I wake up feeling sad because this is real for me. I no longer discuss many of my thoughts and feelings with my parents because my parents—what would you guess their reaction often is based on my dream? When I’ve been hurt by something they’ve done, they’ve blamed me, they’ve belittled me, they’ve ignored me. It rarely ends with an apology, and it never ends with change. Many, many of my memories are of me trying to talk to them about what I think, what I feel, and it ending with a poor reflection on me. They walk away always correct and always blameless, and I am the deficient one, the mistaken one.

I used to share my thoughts and feelings with them. I shared with them because I wanted to be close to them. I wanted them to understand, be compassionate, loving. I wanted them to be proud of who I actually was. I was disappointed often. My parents don’t handle feelings well. It’s not that they are cruel or hard people; the opposite actually. I think one simple explanation is that it is easier for them to blame or ignore me than it is to do anything else.

I stopped sharing most of what I feel with them. If something enormous is happening, I will tell them. Otherwise, my feelings remain with me and a few trusted confidantes.

I am sure there is a camp of people that think this is how it ought to be: that adults should be confiding in peers, not parents; that parents are not meant to be friends. How my relationship translates with my parents though is that nothing of substance can be discussed because my thoughts and feelings are simply invalid. In their eyes, I am emotional and somehow lacking in my ability to contribute meaningfully. I know my parents love me. I know they love me a lot and would literally give their lives for me. I know this. But I also know that if I bring up how I see the world—socially, politically, emotionally—I will be labeled as “brainwashed” or not knowing enough. That habit that they got into of dismissing and denigrating what was so precious to me has seeped into anything that matters. My thoughts are not valid. My perspective is not valid. I am simply ‘The Emotional One’—misguided, ill-informed, and mistaken in anything I disagree with my parents on.

Their default has caused serious harm to our relationship. There have been a few times where my dad has asked for my opinion on something, and I’ve truly treasured those experiences. I have also noticed my mom being more and more compassionate with me, especially when it comes to my health. In general, however, their habit is to ignore and deflect rather than question their own behaviors in a way that brings about change in themselves.

In my dream, the world is ending and they walk straight into their own destruction, despite my cries, my pleas. In spite of what I can see so clearly. Regardless of what I know. But I am emotional, so they won’t listen.