The Inferno

The Dream

Six months ago, I dreamt I lived in a vast black basement and never slept.

My singular duty was to stoke an enormous and intensely hot furnace. I heaved mound after mound of dusty coal into the roaring inferno.  My back ached. My mouth burned with thirst. Yet, I shoveled on.

At intervals, I rested.  The sudden stillness dizzied me, as if I were falling asleep. Heat and light jarred me back to alertness.

I pondered the purpose of the inferno. Does it fuel a city? Power a massive factory? Or is this subterranean monster an entity of its own?

I waved away the thought. Work resumed in minutes. I needed a few moments of mindless relief.

I shoveled.  Unequivocally ravenous and implacable, the fire vaporized  fuel as quickly as I could provide it. I increased my pace. The walls of coal began creeping closer. I shoveled frantically to avoid being pushed into the flames.

I could not maintain this furious pace.

Should I make peace with my doom or continue to  shovel?

I woke up.

 

The First Interpretation

The struggle of fueling a voracious furnace resembles raising a twice exceptional child.

Forever vigilant, I juggle interventions for anxious, tourettic behavior. Today I dab balm on eyelids chapped from compulsive rubbing. Tomorrow I hide tomatoes and bananas under dishtowels.  Our home is a stage constantly reset to remove temptations. Everything is just so, to reduce spills, plumber bills and frustration.

Tyoma’s intelligence generates another kind of perpetual effort. Keeping pace with profound giftedness demands more than hiding scissors or stowing away hand soap.  Intellectual thirst requires mental fleetness, abundant creativity and cognitive endurance. Without stimulation, a gifted brain agonizes. Boredom triggers unedurable tension and restlessness.

I strive to support our son. Should my attentiveness wane, I fear I will be engulfed. Meltdowns,  intense emotions, and wild behavior disorient me. I fear I will fail him.

I secured these thoughts in a notebook. My legacy to Tyoma will not be an interminable online ode on how hard it is to raise him.

The Truth

A week ago,  I revisited my notebook. As I re-read my words, I realized the inferno dream was less about raising a twice exceptional child and more about my own struggle with twice exceptionality.

Long before Tyoma entered our world, I shoveled. I fed the fires of schools, university degrees, jobs and interpersonal relationships. I put forth enormous effort to maintain impossible standards.  At times, the furnace snuffled me in; blackening me into deep depressive spells.

No six year old holds me captive in a basement. I’ve always been here. And now I have company.

My dear, sweet, bright little boy grips a shovel in his hand. His furnace roars. I hope to teach him the finest shoveling techniques.  I hope to teach him to enjoy the radiance of his gifts without being gobbled up by his differences. Above all, I hope to teach him how to brush away the ashes and begin anew.

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Birthday Mom

Comments

  1. Mados says:

    The image is fantastic! I love the ambience, the colour composition and her face expression.

    My reaction when I saw it was that it was a vision of Hell, the description of the dream confirmed the impression. It is sad story.

    • A Quiet Week says:

      Thank you very much, Mados. I worked on this for over six weeks to get just right. I had the hardest time describing my feelings, but showing them consumed many, many afternoons.

      Your visits and encouragement mean a great deal to me. Thank you for dropping by.

      Lori

      • Mados says:

        Thanks for your warm reply:-) I love to drop by and see your art & words. And I am particularly fond of this image.

        Which material is it made of – is it physical or digital?

  2. Yes! That’s just what it’s like. The fire is glorious, the shoveling is rigorous, but it’s all consuming. Thank you for eloquently describing what it’s like to be and to parent a 2e.

    • A Quiet Week says:

      Mightlyheathra,

      Thank you for the visit and forgive my absence. I am buoyed by the support and understanding from other 2e parents. I am glad I was able to connect with you.

      Lori

    • A Quiet Week says:

      Thank you for stopping by and connecting with me! I am happy that I was able to reach you. It is good to connect with other 2e parents.

      Lori

  3. Pat says:

    Lori, as insightful as you are, you are wrong. You have been shoveling mounds of coal that is your awesomeness, and the recent dream is only realizing that your son is now the coal, and you are bringing him into the wonders of your world. Embrace it, and keep on shoveling, you wonderful woman

    • A Quiet Week says:

      Could a girl have a better best friend? Thank you so much for the love and support. I intend to reframe my experiences as shovelfuls of awesome! How lovely! 🙂

      Lori

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