Meaning Making Metaphors

 Last night, I was arrested. I didn't know how I'd do in prison, but I couldn't allow you to go instead. The officer noticed I offered my wrists instead of yours. I met the ground with my knees, waiting for the cuffs. You weren't surprised. You knew I'd take your place. You nodded to me, in a way only I could understand. You'd get me out. I believed you.

My cell mates didn't tell me what they were in for, but they told me I'd be alright. One of them sat next to me, on the stair leading to our living space. "I heard what you did back there. For your mom." 

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I've had recurring dreams for years. Different cities. Different beds.

In of these dreams, both of my parents are present. Sometimes it's light out and sometimes it's dark. There is a constant though. I'm trying to say something to my parents, but I can't. 

Then like a looming avalanche, my teeth break away from my mouth, until pieces of teeth pour from my gums. My parents don't notice me trying to save all the pieces. It's only after I show my two fistfuls of broken teeth does my mom spring into action. Now, it's an emergency. Now, she can be the one to save me.  

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In another of these dreams, the plot changes. but my restrictions stay the same. I can't speak. After waking from this sort of dream, I can still feel the anxiety in my chest. SCREAMING for someone to listen but no words coming out. SCREAMING to say what I need to say but my voice isn't working. I can still feel frantic energy in my fascia after I wake up. I can recall scenes from my dreams, like capturing screenshots on my phone. In one screenshot, I'm running through a familiar house, my mouth opened wide, my vocal cords raw, but still, I can't seem to make a sound. 

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Here's what I've learned. Dreams are meaning makers. It's the brains way of making sense of things that might be too difficult or painful to process while awake. Here's what I'm still learning. What is it that hasn't been said, that needs to be said by me?