My
recurring dream started after my mother died. Quite a time
after she died. I should think about ten years after. And
it nearly always started with me being somewhere really
enjoying myself. I would be at a party or sitting round a
table with friends, sometimes I was out shopping, but
always very happy and contented.
And then suddenly I would think ‘Oh my God.. I’ve forgotten
all about Mam’. And in my mind I hadn’t been to see her for
a long, long time. She was completely gone from my mind.
I’d be gripped by this terrible state of panic and would
excuse myself from wherever I was and set off. Often, as
soon as I was outside of the house or shop where I’d been
enjoying myself I had no idea where I was. I’d be
completely and utterly lost. Nothing looked familiar. I
didn’t know which way to turn or run. I’d start asking
people. I can’t recall what exactly I’d ask them but it
always involved a frantic attempt to find a bus or train.
And then I’d be running along streets, and quite often but
not always, ended up running along the street where I lived
as a child, running as hard as I could. Eventually, the
house would come into view. Most times I’d run down the
entry, which was a passage that served a few terraced
houses. I’d run down this passage, push the gate open, and
then I’d wake up.
Only once do I recollect going through the door, but then
thinking ‘I’m too late’. And the room that I went into was
like a room that hadn’t been lived in for generations.
Cobwebs, dust everywhere. And nobody in it, or seemingly
nobody in it. And I woke up at that point.
When I woke up it was always in a state of great anxiety.
It would always start in the happy situation and end in
anxiety and panic. All I could think was: ‘I’ve got to get
to her quickly or she’ll think I’ve forgotten her, and I
haven’t.’ But I never made it.
F. 65