it's 10:26 pm, on February 09, 2009 - psychoanalysis?.

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this is the dream:

you're in your grandparents' house with your cousin, the older one that -- if anybody does -- probably shares the same childhood shame you do. you're trying to start a dialogue with him, but have decided that this will work best in the dark. you bring him down to the basement of your grandparents house, only to find your grandmother in the room you thought you could speak in. it's light, and she offers to help you guys or something. she wants to talk. you take him by the hand and lead him out of the room.

eventually, you bring him to the room in the basement where you liked to spend most of your time while you were young. you turn off the lights, then turn off the lights in the hallway too. you ask him if he has the-- in the dream, you're able to have a frank conversation even if you can't describe it in retrospect. he says yes, and asks why you're asking now. you tell him about your masters portfolio, and that you want to put some photos of him in it. you're not sure whether you can adequately explain how pictures of him will be valuable, at least not to your committee, but at the same time you don't feel like you should have to. he's not comfortable with it, and you compromise and agree to photograph his hands in black and white.

there's some discussion of inappropriateness, of sexual attraction. you're both adults, but strangely ageless - no way to tell how old you're actually supposed to be. you're both laying in a bed together, in this room in your grandparents' basement. you feel open and close to him like you never did in reality, both with scars and both tucked away under a blanket in the dark.

you wake up, tense and upset and afraid, even if by all rights it appears your dream has a conclusion, a resolution. you lay there for a long time, wondering about shame. you stare up at the ceiling in the dark, considering whether you're actually strong enough to talk about incest in your MRP. you're pretty sure you're not, just like you're pretty sure you'll never have this conversation while awake.

you don't get back to sleep. in class the next day, your hands shake at the thought of faking a calm demeanor as researcher, and shake at telling the truth. you are a fraud, one who dreams of incest and love and incest and hate, and can't even think about saying the word incest to the people who might have the same story you do.

~

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