A Dream within a Dream : Words On a Grey Morning

Our world has become a dream within a dream but we will face this, our incubus, together.

Tuesday 21^st March, 2017

Outside a cold, unfeeling grey light has settled itself around the landscape. It will rest there, for the next few hours, in a non-committal way, showing no signs of the day to come. Like an heartless anaemia, it drains all colour and life to create a world of half-shadows, settles a stillness on the chittering giving it a spectral air.

Inside too is grey despite the wan disinterested glow from the high wattage bulb. It’s almost as if the pre-dawn’s grizzled aspect has by some form of underhand osmosis, crept its murky way into my world. Blurring, confusing, bleaching, bewildering.

Grey /grei/adjective – of a colour indeterminate between black and white , as of ashes or lead – silver, pearly, smoky; silver, hoary; ashen, wan, sickly, bloodless, drawn, deathly, ghostly – without interest or character, dull and nondescript: noun – grey colour or pigment, “dirty indeterminate tones of grey”: verb – become grey with age

I have tried for too long now to fictionalise this more than factual storyline. Pushed it around like a piece of gristle on a cold plate. Uncanny then that reality bites during this cold and hoary hour which belongs neither to night nor day. I awoke into its uncaring coldness to the harsh reality that, as they say, the hour had cometh. For my world, is indeed fading to grey and at a speed that appears to be accelerating by the week. I am living in a landscape fast losing its colour, in a storyline that has rendered me impotent.  

I am losing her, I am losing her, I am losing her. Right in front of my very eyes, like a rudderless boat drifting out onto a vast lake, its course getting more uncertain, its speed quickening with time. I am within reach, touching distance of a hair’s breadth and yet here I am, grasping at nothing, chasing shadows that cannot be caught. She is here and yet she is not here, or rather like a will o’the wisp, she is here and then she is gone.  

The time has come for me to walk into this fast encompassing twilight and to stand with her, side by side, to take her hand and squeeze it. To let her know, during our more lucent hours, that I am there, I will be there, always, through both seeming and reality. Our world has become a dream within a dream but we will face this, our incubus, together.

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream” – Edgar Allan Poe

Derv

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How to Disappear Completely #dailyinspo365

In which like a snail retreating into its shell, I immerse myself in writing this post, and somehow, silently, magically, disappear completely.

Some days are harder than others. Some days “that there, that’s not me”.

I like to keep it positive, keep it brightside, but it isn’t always easy, maintaining a front.

My mother has dementia. I can’t remember if I’ve told you that before but there it is. In plain English. Dementia. And it is eating away at her … and gnawing away at me.

Somedays, her ‘demented mind’ and warped way of thinking skew facts, deconstructing and reconstructing past events, churning up ‘history’, and raking up the bones of a long buried past. Dementia drives obsession and obsessive behavioural patterns. Those suffering with the disease often focus on past happenings, and sadly, in my mother’s case, these tend to be predominantly negative.

I don’t know what triggers these bouts of obsession, and while irregular in frequency, they are regular in recurrence. They come and they go, lasting anything from a few hours up to as many weeks. At the moment, mum is currently experiencing a bout of fixation that is particularly vitriolic. I keep trying to swerve the conversation by changing the subject or leaving the room, but it’s no use. She just keeps on, and on, and on, repeating the same angry utterances again, and again, and again.

Like stone on glass, it grinds and wears me down. I feel myself shrivelling. I feel my temper burning. I feel sadness burrowing into my heart and darkness enshrouding my soul.

And then it takes my hand. The need to evaporate, to fade, to disappear completely.

That there
That’s not me
I go
Where I please

I walk through walls
I float down the Liffey
I’m not here
This isn’t happening
I’m not here
I’m not here

In a little while
I’ll be gone
The moment’s already passed
Yeah it’s gone
And I’m not here
This isn’t happening
I’m not here
I’m not… – How to Disappear Completely, Radiohead (Kid A)

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Some days, no matter how hard I try, dementia beats me into retreat. You can only fight the invisible in so many ways, and for so long, before like a war-savvy guerrilla it takes you out.

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The words of this Radiohead song perfectly sum up how I feel in these instances of mind-bending unreality. Because that’s how it feels. Unreal. Mind-warping. Nerve-wracking. Tension tightening. Emotional straightjacket.

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And all the while, there she is. Oblivious. My wonderful, intelligent, determined, courageous, brave, inspirational mother. A fragile and frayed iteration of her former steely self. And I hate it, this disease. It has forced us to fight a battle we cannot win.

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I stand bruised but not broken. Bloodied, but unbowed.

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For now though, I need to go.

” … In a little while

I’ll be gone

…

I’m not here

This isn’t happening

I’m not here

I’m not”

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You can listen to the first episode of my dementia podcast Fade to Grey here. More episodes will follow shortly.

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Derv

*If a little of what you fancy appeals, and you’d like to have my #dailyinspo365 posts appearing in your inbox, I’d love to have you along for the joy, the bumps, and more importantly, the company. You can follow along by clicking the ‘Follow DervSwerve’ link on the right!