Orange Needles

I was walking down the street and the street turned into the house I am currently living at. There were needles everywhere. They were the thin, bright, orange handled ones that many drug users have. There was a huge pile of them laying on the carpet, and each person who came by, I mentioned the needles. Instead of turning my way or acknowledging my presence, they ignored me and walked right through the pile. As each person walked by, I told them about the pile, but I still got no response. As far as I could tell, nobody was nicked by a needle, but it didn’t stop me from mentioning it.



My Worst Fear

I dreamed that my Mother died in essentially the same way that my Father did: somewhat mysteriously and shrouded in unanswerable questions. In my dream, my Mother died suddenly by a car accident or heart attack, quite possibly both. I head of the news through another party, a secret party, but I didn’t know exactly who it was who told me. When I heard about it, I was devastated and found my most favorite picture of her. I couldn’t keep the picture to myself and I decided to post it on Facebook. I placed her picture, of her looking royally at the camera with a handful of strawberries still attached to the root springing from her fingers. I left the most beautiful tribute to my Mother, but not one of my Facebook friends said anything. Nobody liked or commented it on it at all. It went unacknowledged. I left computer feeling extremely sad that I expressed my pain but nobody else saw the importance of it since I was adopted and shouldn’t mourn the loss of my real mother, the one I look and act exactly like. After leaving the computer, I looked in the mirror and started to apply make-up to my face. I penciled in my eyebrows and shaped them. I applied mascara and eyeliner. I looked beautiful for a face that wasn’t any longer my own, but inside I felt empty because of how much I miss her. To this day, I am worried that she will die and I will not ever truly get the opportunity to get to know her. We speak different languages now and we are a world apart.



I was spending time with another long-haired blonde woman who was slightly taller than me. She happened to have an operation on her spinal chord. She was perfectly healthy, but they inserted an outlet into a lower vertebra of her spine regardless of her health. She pulled her shirt slightly up and I looked at it. It looked like a phone jack for internet connection had been inserted into her spine. I asked her about it but she stated that it was, “no big deal if it was done successfully,” like hers had been. I was a little bit taken aback by her comment and stared at her sitting on her little backless stool in the middle of the dark room. She then told me how cool it was because, “at any time, you can just plug yourself in and recharge.”


The Perfect Mother

I had this dream on Mother’s Day (in the United States). I was trying to write a list about the qualities that make up the perfect mother. In real life, I have two mothers or even much more than two because I have had several parental figures in my life. I have the woman who adopted me, who is not my mother, who I refuse to call my mother, and who the law states is in fact my only mother. Adoption is a strange thing. I had a mother before the woman who adopted me became “mom;” I was swiftly taken away from my mother at four years old and she was given the future title of being my “birth mother, biological mother, natural mother” or any other term society wants to throw onto her. I refuse to do that to her. She was and always will be my mother to me regardless of what names society calls her. It’s quite confusing to know and have memories of my mother and being forced to call the new woman who started raising me “mom.” I always wondered why I had to lose my mother and why  I could no longer see her. So, I wrote my list, or attempted to write my list of what makes the perfect mother, but all the details I wrote down didn’t make any sense. There were so many details missing that I could not, by any means, finish the compare and contrast list of the qualities needed to be a “good” mother.


Lost Coin Necklace


Personal photograph of my Romanian coin necklace

I have a special necklace that I wear. It is a replica of a Romanian 1924 “penny.” I have a friend in New Jersey who has the same replica. We are both adopted from Romania, and this pendant is very special to both of us. Hers was a gift from her adoptive father, while I found mine online and purchased it. In my dream however, I had lost this necklace. I never take the necklace off and I wear it all of the time, but it had fallen from my neck and I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find it anywhere. Romania was lost.


Trapped in Amsterdam

A few years ago, back in 2013, I met two dear friends of mine who work in the field of adoption trafficking. We had met in Amsterdam around the time of my first visit to Romania after being adopted to the United States. In this dream, I was with these two friends of mine and we were in the city we had met at. There was a huge crowd around us and they were pushing and shoving us in the attempt to stop us from deporting and leaving Amsterdam. The crowd separated me from my friends and then I heard somebody shouting at me. Then I felt hands grabbing at me. It was another friend of mine, who lives in Europe and has worked with both of the members of this adoption trafficking team. She was trying to arrest all of us. The three of us were trapped and we were trying to leave before the police came.


Interstellar Wave

I was in a large wooden boat, alone in the middle of the ocean. Waves were coming towards me and I was taking them on one by one. I was proud of myself for making it over the waves that kept becoming bigger and bigger. I was amazed that my sailboat had shrunk in size but was still intact. I went through some waves and others I went directly over without any problems at all. It was very exciting until this monster of a wave came rushing towards me. It looked exactly like the wave on Interstellar. My boat crept up to the top of this wave rushing towards me. I had made it safely up the rollercoaster wave, but coming down the other side of the mountain wave, everything had disappeared. The wave and boat were both simply gone, and there was absolutely nothing left beneath me. It put me into a state of panic and I woke up from my dream turned to nightmare. I even awoke feeling seasick. Everything in my dream felt intensely real.