Make up and Purgatory

I went to get my daughter. She had been with Angela, my friend. Angela had her make up kit open. My daughter sat in front of her. When I looked at my daughter's face it looked like a puppet's, with eye shadow, rouge, lipstick... I got upset. Angela told me off. She said kids love to have their faces made up. I said 'kids' not 'babies'. I took a wet wipe and began taking the make up off my daughter's face. She was not happy. I was not happy, either. How dared Angela do something to my daughter without even consulting me?

My daughter got fed up with me messing up with her face and said 'ase me!' (let me be!) I was so taken aback. My daughter had spoken after a long period of regression to babbling. I hugged and kissed her and showed her how happy I was she was once again communicating but she ran away from me. I began chasing her but the distance grew larger and larger. We were by the seaside, I was on top of the road, she was already on the beach. There were too many bathers and it was hard to keep visual track of her. I was shouting 'stop her! please somebody stop her!' One lady picked her up. I wanted to get closer but it was difficult to do so without jumping down the wooden staircase and I had my knees to consider even though at the time of the chase I did not feel the pain. I had the strongest feeling that my daughter did not want me, she did not love me.

Then I was in a strange place that looked like an ancient theatre only it was enclosed and darker and painted in vivid colours. I began my descend wondering if this is what Purgatory is like. I saw a couple of puppets dressed as priests. They were not exactly Christian Orthodox priests, more like a caricature of a priest and a transfaith caricature at that. I felt that I was going to meet the big man himself, the Pope(!) I saw some fish en croute being moved on a conveyor belt. People were mumbling. I wondered is this what happens when you die. You get covered with shortcrust pastry and then judged? Then I heard a voice comment: 'it does not matter how you end up, what matters is how you began.' Then I woke up shaken and broke into tears.

This nightmare came out of the blue. I wondered what did it mean about me and my daughter.

This is the second time I have dreamt we have been separated. The first time was months ago when I saw a lady stealing her pram and running away and I was unable to catch up. When I caught up with some ladies and prams every child that I thought was my daughter turned out to be similar but different till I no longer knew what my daughter looked like and had no hope of recovering her.

It is daytime now, the birds are tweeting outside, the trees are shimmering under the morning rays of the sun, their leaves dancing under the slightest breeze. I want to go collect our passports and then escape to the beach. I need to spend time alone with my daughter. The spirits at home are too excited and we are at self combustion point. Put heat and too many people together and you have an instantly explosive combination.

As for my diet, well I am eating less, but I am still feeling guilty and dissatisfied. I wish I could go back to eating 3/4 of a pot of yoghurt and feeling full... that would be my ideal. The thought that the lapband operation has not worked or the band itself is faulty won't leave my mind. The only thing that can alleviate this thought is if I weigh myself Monday and find that I have lost say 3 kilos. That will be good. But how will it happen if I am not hungry? How can it happen unless I suffer?

I am slowly drifting away from everything. Message boards, online friendships... won't even bother checking my mobile for messages any more as I know there won't be any. There is this great big void inside that nothing seems to fill and now that food is not an option, it has gotten harder to ignore.