A simultaneously devastating and beautiful piece about mothers and mothering.
“Every Mother contains her daughter in herself and every daughter her mother and every mother extends backwards into her mother and forwards into her daughter.”
― C.G. Jung
A “big” dream, recalled vividly, from well over a decade ago, from a time when my professional identity was central to me, and I considered myself happily child-free.
The dream has served as a herald, a warning, a reminder, a road sign, a comfort and a counterweight.
My eyes are following a sea bird as it circles strangely in the sky over the city streets. Directly beneath is a young woman, in a old coat, tightly buttoned over a large pregnant belly. She is walking away from me, and I decide to follow her.
She slips into a church yard.
I follow her inside, but she has disappeared.
A tunnel. A man (a priest?) gestures for me to enter. I must crawl…
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