The Dream

I was meeting
an old friend
at the theatre.

I was running late—
finishing work.

My mum—
I’d asked her
to join us.

I tried
to call my friend—
my phone
wouldn’t work.

I tried
to buy Mum a ticket—
the website
wouldn’t load.

I finally got through
to my friend.

They were upset
(understandably—
I’m often late).

I explained myself.
They softened.

Now I was
so late
I would miss
the start.

I put my mum
on the bus.

While I
pedalled furiously
on a bike.

The Meaning

relationship as performance
I was invited and expected—but I arrived late, distracted by other things.

mum
History, tension, inherited patterns—yet I’m trying to integrate her into a present connection.

fails
It’s not that I don’t want to show up—it’s that my tools fail me at the exact moment I try. Even when I care, I mess it up.

pedalling while mum takes the bus
Still trying to fix, working harder than anyone—others calmly carried along.
I’m exhausted. I’m earning my right to attend—and yet somehow, miss the mark.

What Lingers…

What if over-efforting is guilt dressed as love?

What if showing up late doesn’t equal not deserving to show up at all.

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Marginalia

At the time, guilt was running the show—researching ancestry while letting others down in the process. I was beginning an NHS assessment for ADHD, and my mum pushed back—questioning why I’d take this road so late in life—this dream holds all the tension of her approach.

My dreams return to this dynamic again and again. In Walking Away with the Door Still Open, I refuse to wait.

In Sunsets and Nervous Men, I finally reach for joy without needing to earn it.