The other night I dreamed about a baby who lived underground in secret, below my apartment. I was the only one who knew of the underground place, and every night I'd sneak food down for the baby and make sure everyone was still alive down there. We lived in fear of the baby crying which would alert my upper world who might punish them for living there, but luckily the baby was quiet, so far.
Probably indicative of my mental state. I have an inner baby who wants to cry but can't because it's not safe to, and no one knows she even exists. She's pure and vulnerable and I have to protect her from those who might harm her if they knew.
Other people lived in the underground place too, but I was most concerned for the baby and her father, who didn't have adequate resources. That's how I view my dad currently. He's literally at the same level as the infant. I am the only one who can meet my inner infant's needs. The baby is surviving so far, even deprived of a mom, sunlight, or the freedom to cry. Because I am doing everything I can to keep this child breathing in this cold and barren place where survival depends on keeping quiet.
I've actually been crying buckets for days. I'll feel better when I can go into nature again and have a long hug. Been nostalgic lately for the beforetimes, remembering the fun times and all the nice people of my past. I wish I could just blow little kisses to every person who ever touched my life, even in the smallest ways. Time is going too fast, and I want to tell them thank you before it's too late.
2:54 p.m. - 2022-01-19