Loving Girl Blue

DREAMBIT:

I had a little girl, about 2 or 3, who I had just taken back from someone who was taking care of her for me. She was quiet in my arms but moody looking. I felt her skin which was cool and wondered if she was sick, though she seemed healthy. I carried her upstairs to a desk (mine?), then I put her down so I could clean up the desk. I sorted through some books and magazines to decide what to keep. In the end I decided to chuck them all.

DREAMWORK:

Ah, my little baby again, this time a girl… but why is she melancholic? I feel that she wanted to be with me, but perhaps I had been away from her too long? This had made her blue and withdrawn. There is certainly a big part of me that is blue and withdrawn. She’s been there for a long time. And even though I love her I still put her aside for my work. I become preoccupied with learning and forget about her, at least for the moment, even though I ended up throwing out all the books. Perhaps then I could devote myself to her? Perhaps then I could devote myself to connecting, loving, and nurturing myself? Forget the books. I know all I need to know from them.

What I remember most viscerally is the feel of her skin against mine. The velvety baby softness that gives, the temperature lower than mine, as if she has cooled from her former fiery passionate self, like a baby who’s exhausted herself crying and demanding, and is now pliable and limp, given up.

Poor baby, I promise to do better.