PRISON DREAMS - AGAIN

Rod and I are spending a few days here in Dana Point, a beautiful community south of Laguna Beach where we have good friends. Though this is a 'work' trip for Rod, I opted to come along for the ride, keep him company in his 'down time', & spend time exploring this lovely Cali destination hot spot as the occasion presents itself. I am happy to be here, ensconced in a lovely room at the Dana Point Harbor Inn, surrounded by the marina, gorgeous warm, sunny skies, every nature of boat and fun, interesting boutiques and wonderful restaurents to suit anyones tastes.

Last nite after a delicious light dinner of Lobster Bisque, salad and calamari AT Harpoon Henry's, here in the Marina, we decided to take in a movie. Because it was conveniently starting within minutes of our arriving at the Cineplex, we decided to see Quenton Tarantino's Django Unchained, with Jamie Fox. It had been one of our "must see" flicks , along with Les Miserables and a few others, and as my husband lives and breathes for Westerns, it was the perfect choice. It was an interesting movie, there were moments I had to cover my eyes not wishing to view the disturbing brutality of some scenes, and the feelings of disgust and dismay witnessing yet another depiction of this nations lawful yet immoral engagement in such human suffering. Perhaps it was the after affects, subconscious, that spurred my dream last nite.

My dream - I was visiting Corey in prison. It wasn't in a visitation room, not anything remotely familiar or like any place I have ever visited him on this journey. We were in some sort of cell, and I was sitting next to him on a plain wooden bench, with other inmates around us, sitting on benches or the floor. I became aware there was something wrong with Coreys face. i slide closer to my son and spoke his name, he turned slightly away from me...i placed my hands on his face and turned it towards me...his face was covered in bruises and gashes. I gasped as I took in the condition of his right eye, the one closest to me, it was covered with some type of plastic covering, secured with tape bandages. With horror I realized he had lost his eye! I gasped "oh my God!" I knew then he'd been attacked, been beaten, and had forever lost his eye. In an instant I felt his pain and even shame and how i knew he would be believing this would affect his life going forward. I said to him that he'd get a prosthetic eye, no one would ever be able to tell, he'd be as handsome as he ever was...my son grabbed me, in this dream, and hugged me so hard. I felt his gratitude at my having said what he needed to hear ...or maybe it was simply that I was there to share his pain and that alone gave comfort...all I know is the intense emotions caused me to call out something and awaken abruptly with the tears streaming down my face.

I instantly got out of my hotel bed, wanting to shake the images and the pain of the disconcerting dream.

Over these years I've had so, so many such dreams, my "prison dreams"...though very few though, thankfully, that depicted violence. All made manifest no doubt because of my constant and underlying fears for my sons safety or his health, physical and emotional, that I try not to think about while awake. Funny how if its "in there" it will manifest as with a will of its own. We will be made to deal with it one way or another, eventually.

Rod and I (and of course our son) count ourselves as fortunate that despite the long years of his confinement Corey has never had to confront, first hand, violence upon his person. Early on in all this, the fears he might have had himself had lived within me, first in the county lockup, even more volatile than the prison he would go to, or in the FCC he served his first 3 yrs in prior to being transferred to the minimum security camp. Hearing/reading of the violence in the county jail, and recalling various episodes of tv shows depicting prison life, I can still remember scouring the internet those first early months of Corey's internment in Spokane's jail, after having been told a prison term (though we knew not at that time how long that would be) was assured. I can vividly still remember those long late nights in the bedroom of the apartment Rod and I had rented for the duration of the years prosecution, sitting at my laptop, seeking out information on self defense and survival, when one had nothing but his wits and personal body strength as weapons. I would print and send Corey pictorals, with instructions, on whatever I would find, trying to make light of it, yet somehow feeling this intense need to prepare him as much as I could, to survive. I had taken karate classes myself many years ago, and with the heightened ability to protect myself, even if in some small way, I know I affected a greater self confidence. I also had printed out and mailed to Corey everything I could find on what to expect once arriving at prison, I sought out sites like Prison Talk Online, I asked questions, got answers, I believe knowledge is power. I'm sure Corey learned all he needed to know from first hand experience, as he needed it, but I still encourage anyone starting out on this journey to prepare for it as much as possible. In whatever way that will give some relief and some comfort.

An advantage my son had was his large physical presence. He was/is 6 ft, 5 inches tall, and weighed in at 260 lbs when he was arrested. To begin with he was not someone who would stand out as being vulnerable, so that somewhat lessened my fears. Corey learned early on the inmates unwritten rules, mind your own business, do your own time. He is by nature outgoing, funny, intelligent and very witty, compassionate and kind, yet strong and protective of those more vulnerable. These traits have stood him well over the years and our son was easy to like, quick to be respected and befriended by most everyone he would meet, share space with on this journey.

Well it seems I have managed to ramble on far more than I intended upon taking up my laptop this morning, here on my hotel bed, with the wonderful southern Cali sun shining brilliantly outside my patio window, beckoning to me....but my fingers assumed a life of their own once hitting the keyboard! But there you have it, just another 'prison dream'....the worries, the fears, that have long taken up residence in my subconcsious, and look for any opportunity to come out and play. But now, NOW its time for me to head back out into that bright, warm sunshine!

"Those who have compared our life to a dream were right.... We sleeping wake, and waking sleep." ~ Michel de Montaigne, Essays, 1580