Nightmare

Mary woke me up this morning at 6 AM on the dot. I think she was moaning and emitting long Ohhh's. That scared me to death, as you can imagine. I ran in there and she was all upset. She said she was so worried, that she'd been up and running around the house for the longest time and something about the neighbors and some big men who were digging. She insisted that it was real and that she get up. When I told her it was just a very vivid dream, she told me I just couldn't comprehend--an odd word coming from Mary's mouth, which gave me the heeby-jeebies. Do you know what it's like to have someone contradict your idea of reality with such conviction that you feel uncertain of yourself? That odd Twilight-Zone feeling always comes over me when she tells me something that I know isn't true but of which she is absolutely convinced. Or when she asks me something like whether I knew her father, who died when my mom was sixteen.

So I got her up and she came out to the kitchen to look out the back patio. Nothing strange there. She couldn't understand it. We went to the front door and looked out. Nothing strange. We turned on the TV. Nothing out of the ordinary. It didn't make sense to her and I felt so bad for her. She was so upset. She'd said something about an explosion and that they (well, "we," which could just be her royal we usage) had looked at the news on the television and nothing had been out of the ordinary. We looked at the newspaper. Nothing. Then she said she was so tired, so I was able to convince her to go back to bed, but she was still upset. She swears she doesn't dream, which I know can't be true because she talks in her sleep (more and more), so maybe that's why this dream disturbed her so much. She's not used to remembering her dreams. Like that time that she dreamt that someone had stolen her "bean bag." She was hopping mad when she woke up! Well, she's definitely a character!

Mary's birthday is January 18. I bought some steaks and I'm just planning to go over to my mom's for a nice dinner and some, egads, dominoes. That day was also the birthday of my brother who died this past year. I'd like to get some flowers and put them on his grave. At least, I mean, Mary will get him some flowers. I've got to find a job. I'm so fed up with living off of Mary. And I'm scared, too, that someone in the family will take me to court after she dies. People get so strange about money.

I often wonder if I do spend too much of her money. Do I spend more than she would? She often bought stuff for herself at the department store or from the home shopping network. But she woudn't have spent so much on groceries. I've really got to get ahold of myself in that area. She doesn't eat much and I'm on a diet, so I don't know who I think is going to eat all of the food I buy. I think it's a family problem. Comes from growing up in a large family. And I know Mary wouldn't have given all the gifts that I give in her name. Is that wrong of me? I used to think it was very clever and pious of me, but recently I've been thinking that maybe it's wrong. But, on the other hand, why do people want money to be left to them? They may not even be around longer, or much longer, than Mary. So wouldn't they want to enjoy things now? By "people" I mostly mean Anna and Angie and Mom. And me? I don't know. But for being a born again Christian, Mary is one of the least generous, charity-wise, people I know. It's odd, as she would say. She's convinced herself that she has no money. I get worried--it's my nature--but I know in my heart of hearts that she has enough to live on for a while yet. Would she have more if I'd never shown up? Hmph. She wouldn't be alive anymore if I hadn't shown up. There were two definite instances in the hospital and the nursing home (rehab) when she would have died without me. But does that give me the right to spend her money? Sometimes I can't believe how much she trusts me. Do I abuse that trust? I think, compared to others... but that doesn't matter. The question is only about me. On the other hand, look how much I have given up for her. All those trips back and forth from Lexington with me paying for my gas and car maintenance. She would simply say that she never asked me to do anything for her. And she's right. That's how sly she is. Oh, I don't trust her any further that I can throw her.

Oh, well, it's late and she really ought to be getting up soon. How is it possible to love someone and yet not trust them in the least? To be willing to sacrifice anything for them and yet know that they wouldnt' do the same for you.