The Bleeding Girl

Dream:

I have an old wooden chest with small pieces shaped like crosses missing out of the top. In the holes are glass photos- holographic images of my life, that change, like movies. I look at my life and the images, feeling sadness and joy. I drop one glass piece and it hits my leg and gashes it open. It starts gushing with blood and I can't stop the bleeding. A white-haired man comes over. He looks at the cut and seems unconcerned. He hands me a dirty rag to wipe off the blood, telling me it will be fine. I lie there and the pain gets worse and worse. My leg starts clotting, but my whole body and soul are racked with this pain. My heart is breaking. This is so much more than a hurt leg. I look through a door to a cabin and see a young (13 year old) girl hanging by her neck from a rafter. She looks dead. Then my leg is bandaged and I am walking with a young (13 years) black girl whose mother is dead, wrapped in a sheet, being carried behind her. We start walking in a line, with 2 men carrying the body to bury the mother. I just want to be near this girl- I know she is a part of me.

This picture is part of a tryptich with the main center drawing a picture of my bleeding girl. This girl can be covered with a white cloth and become the dead mother, wrapped in a sheet when I am not feeling my deep wound. The wound is so painful; I desperately want to cover it over and not feel it. Instead, if I stay in this pain and feel how the gash on my leg is the tip of an iceberg that is my frozen, wounded girl, the pain changes. I can feel the white-haired man telling me everything will be fine. I feel the support of the Divine father, whom I did not know how to turn to as a child. I can experience his love and support . Instead, I turn away and covering over my feelings with the sheet, lessons I learned well from my mother. This dream offers me the opportunity to feel how there is support and love for me in my trauma, and that I can move into the depth of my wounded girl and reclaim the intact girl burying the dead mother, moving through the pain of her wound into Divine love.