Helicopter parents : The dream of two liones or the celebration of Childhood Mid- Autumn Festival

 During COVID, I started paying attention to my dreams and writing them down. When I write down dreams, more dreams appear that make sense, and I could decode the dreams eventually.

 I will share three dreams here that may be related to the previous entry, The storm will come”.

First dream: 

During COVID, I saw two full- grown lions jump out of the big gate. I told Nguyen. Nguyen asked in a concerned voice. “ Two lions jumped out and moved toward us?”

 I said no, “Run away from me.” This dream was easy for me to understand. “ My two children went away from their parents for college.”

One thing was questionable. Beo ( Beo in Vietnamese is Leopard/ He was born in the year of Tiger/on the August zodiac sign was Leo) was a Lion. Mando was not. She was born in the year of the snake. Yet, I still think both full-grown lions were both of my children. 

Dreams work with layers. According to Google AI, psychologically, based on Freud and Carl Jung, a lion is viewed as a symbol of the archetypal hero and transformation, or the powerful animal repression, aggressive desires, or raw dominance.

Many traditions see lions as a sign of spiritual awakening/higher guidance and a reminder to tap into your innate resilience during challenging times. 

Both kids got out/ transformed into full-grown adults to college. 

I got the answer to this dream after a long time of contemplating. 

Second dream: 

After Mano went back to Seattle West Point for her medical leave,  I had a dream seeing her, and I stayed in front of the school's big gate. The tall and heavy gate closed in front of us. I stood next to her/ the background was dark, and the ground got muddy. I know that dreams reflect our reality at that time. The door shut down / the road ahead was muddy and sticky, but I was with her. 

Third dream: 

Very recently, last week, right after I posted the previous entry, “the storm will come,” I had a peculiar dream. 

I saw my first cousin's wife from my mother's side, Ms. Nguyet ( Moon in English), come to our apartment. She gave me a piece of cake and some leftovers of a sweet treat wrapped in a piece of light blue paper.

I never ever had her in my dreams. The last time I met her in person was at my mom’s 49-day death ceremony. 

In the dream, my apartment was clean,  revealing a lot of empty space.

Then I saw three Tiger cups coiling, sleeping peacefully at the corner of the house. The image of three little cups sleeping and coiling reminded me of my old dog Happie. Happie is aging/ He does not do much except for sleeping and resting on his small bed every day. 

It took me a few days to think about how weird the dream was. The more I think, the more layers of this dream unfolded.

 Cake / Moon during this time as mooncake for Mid-Autumn Festival. Actually, we are preparing to celebrate this children's festival by the end of this week. My cousin's wife, named Nguyet/ Moon and she, gave me a cake: a mooncake.

Did the dream invite me back to the Mid-Autumn Festival?  Quite interesting. Actually, tomorrow, Friday 09/25/26, is the Autumn Festival. 

The dream happened after the entry “ The storm will come” revealed an image of the clean and empty house. I shared the story to vent it out. My mind and heart are much lighter after sharing. I do not have the burden of “ telling this important story” anymore. I have more empty space inside my heart and mind to breathe right now. Or continued to deal with emty nest symdrome when all the children grown and move out of the house?

Instead of seeing two lions jump out of the gate like before, now I see peaceful, sleeping little Tigers coming back to a safe house to sleep/ to rest after the storm passes.

I got old artworks that two children and I did back in Davis. Tiger collage with torn paper. We did the whole summer for this project.

Why three? I have two lions /or two children only. Why three.

I thought that the third one might be me, as the dream already invited me back to my childhood.

The Mid-Autumn Festival was always one of the most celebrated times during my childhood. I always got invitations to participate in art competitions as a child artist. We would look forward to the moon cake that my father sent to us. Mooncakes were expensive. My mother could not afford to buy mooncakes for us. Father always sent us a tin box with four mooncakes every year. We could eat them in rations. Mother cut each cake into four. We took time to eat our portion and drank tea. I made lanterns out of bamboo sticks and tissue or newspaper. I even had to cook the rice paste to make glue as buying glue would be too expensive. I did not have wire to build my lantern. I did not rubber band. Sometimes after it done, I lighted up with a small candle inside and the rubber band got burned and detroyed my Lantern. I would go to sleep very sad that night. My mom would said, lucky you did not burn the house down.

The sleeping little tiger was me. 

I am ready to let my little Tiger of my childhood sleep in peace.

I hope.

I made these artworks when I was a child during the Mid-Autumn Festival. My mother saved all of these for me. Now it's my turn to save all of my children 's art for them.

I miss my mother pretty much every day. I miss her, not anymore crying, sad nor depressed, less guilty, but with love in my peaceful heart.

Now, during this time, when the day gets darker soon in Seattle, our art class will make lanterns to light up the darkness and boost spirit and mood, as well as celebrate holidays until the end of the year. 

Making Lanterns is a safe way to help artists to go back to childhood and process adversity and trauma. During these festive activities, things from the past may come up. Sadness and depression may become triggers. But the act of cutting/ glueing the colorful paper together helps to amend the past. We do not use candle for this project. We are better now. we used LED light. When the light inside is turned on, our hearts get warm just looking at it.

 Here are some Lanterns that we made throughout the years. 

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival. 

Enjoy a piece of Mooncake and beautiful art, please.

The little girl riding a big horse on shore

 

Today, Vietnam time is my little sister's birthday. May 13.

She always has a sweet spot in my heart. 

I dreamt about a little girl riding a magnificent horse to shore a few days ago. 

The ocean was rainy, wet, dark, and windy. The little girl was all alone in the ocean.

Suddenly, a big horse rose from the water and carried her on its back. Her hair is dark and blown backward against the wind.

The image is powerful. Dream could be processed in layers.

Her birthday, May 13 or 1305, is significant in my life. My little sister always appears in my dreams wearing a white dress that my mother made for her. She said that her forever favorite dress. She was born in the year of the Horse. 

1305 signifies healing/these series of numbers appeared few more times in my life  that open up for me to confront my childhood trauma, reconciled with the past, so I could reveal my truth to my sister in 2024 and allow her to help me to move forward, just like the image in my dream: 

The white horse that carried a little girl safely on shore.

Happy birthday, little one. 

I love you dearly. 

Dream of childhood house and a Baby Dragon

I had a dream last night 05/21/2024 that showed me childhood friend Thảo, who lived with me in the Cao Thắng building from I was 7 years old until we both got married and moved out of the building 20 years later. 

Thảo was the only friend I hung out with throughout my entire childhood.  Also, I was the only friend that Thao's parents allowed her to spend time with. Both of us did not hang out with other children at the "hood". Other children were allowed to be out on the street. We were not. We were either at her apartment or mine. We either hang out with me alone or with both of my brothers and sister. No one else. We shared the same lonely childhood together. 

On the third-floor balcony across her apartment's window. We were 11-12 years old at that time.

At my 15th birthday party 

( I believe the two black and white pictures were taken by Ba Minh. Now I remember that all black and white pictures of my family and friends were photographed by him. )

At my apartment's little kitchen making yellow pancakes called bánh xèo with my mother and in her little living room on her birthday over 20 years ago. My little sister, Mưa sent these photos to me when she re-modeled her house three months ago, in 2024. My heart squeezed hard seeing how happy and young and innocent we were. 

Me and Thảo talked over FB messenger over time not often because we both are busy living our lives. After we got married, we slowly walked two separate paths. 

I live in the US while Thảo stays in Vietnam with her husband and three sons. Later she send three of them to the US to study. We keep each other in touch via FB pages and later messengers.

The last time we met each other in person was at the wedding of her second son. We called him Bia Em at home (Bia is Beer, Em is the younger sibling in Vietnamese).  

It was late October 2022 Saturday. The rain was hard soaking wet Westminster that night. 

She greeted me with a big hug and, "Oh man. Are you cold-wearing like this? " I respond to her, " I thought you were a bride." Both laughed, just like in the old days. 

 I was the only friend of her that came to the wedding. We were placed to sit at the groom's family table. Her second son is the same age as Beo, my son. Interestingly, both were born and lived their first few months at the Cao Thang building. 

At the wedding, we showed off a few rare fading black-and-white pictures of our childhood to the other guests which served as my introduction and explanation of why a total stranger like me was at the wedding not knowing everyone around.  

at her son's wedding party in 2022

 Besides my childhood, some black-and-white pictures, and that rare wedding occasion, I connect to her mostly through my dreams. In my recurrent dreams, I always see her at Cao Thang building sometimes in our apartment together, sometimes at the stairwell. I remember the dreams were always dark. Last night's dream was surprisingly different. No Cao Thang. No apartment. No darkness. 

Instead, in the dream, she sends me $ 200.000 asking me to pay off the house for her. She sends money through an American electronic system called Zelle.

I woke up from a peculiar dream.

The first thought that came to my mind was that she bought the house in the US for her son? 

Then I brushed it off. Nope. Too shallow. In my dreams, obvious things like that do not happen.

 I texted and shared the dream with her. She said, "No house" and sent me a picture of her second son, his wife, and a picture of a newborn baby.

I could not believe that my childhood friend now has become a grandma. 

Is that the paid-off house? The fruitful result of the marriage. A beautiful baby? 

I said congratulations. I asked questions about the baby including name and birthday.  

Last night she texted me back “May 13. Sound familiar to you?”

May, 13! 

Of course. Birthday of my little sister and the death day of Ba Minh. Turned out Thao remembers my little sister's birthday. 

May,13,1978. 

 She did not know the death day of Ba Minh but she remembers Ba Minh as clearly as I do.  

I always believe dream works with layers. 

This dream is deeply personal working in layers that intertwined with my best friend from the past.  

She was my only friend who witnessed back-to-back bad things that happened to my 12-year-old little girl. She knows things I would never reveal to my sister and brother. 

As my only friend, she held a safe space for me to survive my darkness by spending time night and day with me and my two siblings. Through countless dark nights without electricity, we kept each other company. We played cards. We made eggshells into dolls, dressed them up with newspaper, and decorated them with my mother's watercolors. We set up the small theater for a puppet show. We were both actors and audiences.  We played hopscotch draw with white chalk on the cement floor on the rooftop every morning during summer. We carried hand-made lanterns with a tiny flickering candle inside at night along the hallway during the mid-autumn festivals.

She is holding a safe space for me to re-enter my darkness as an adult. After 34 years.

She suggested, " Can you look at your past from a different angle? a little less dark? " 

" I am doing it," I told her.  

She is also my friend who unconsciously appears in my recurrent dreams.  

Last night she told me "to pay off the house". She sends me the money. 

Pay it off, Châu! This is over. 

2024 already. 

We texted. She said she could not endure my emotional pain for me. She said that she would not read my blogs because she already knows how painful it would be but she will be available right here with me as I am walking through the darkness to heal my wounds. 

The $200.000 symbolized her emotional currency as her support?

To pay off my childhood trauma? 

I have to do it myself. 

A new baby is born. Same day. Random? Or. This.  May 13, 2024, will change the meaning? 

Not guilt/ not sad/not mad /not outburst /not death but reborn to a fresh, pure, brand new future?

Thảo nicknamed her first grandson bé Rồng (Baby Dragon ) for 2024 is the year of a Dragon.

Something powerful like a dragon that emerged on the same date that has been haunting me?

I told Thảo," I am not sure my past trauma is healed but I know it is healing as long as I keep going. Through unexpected dreams that give me hints and the courage to go back and explore the deepest hidden from the past." 

I can dive into the darkness and unknown territory to heal myself because, in the past, there were dear people like my friend, sister and brother, mother, and father to hold me safely.  

Also, I can step into my pain because I have a lovely family, such as my husband and my two children to anchor me to the solid ground. 

This is not random. This is an absolute truth that a beautiful rainbow always appears after the rain. 

I remember this statement from Carl Gustav Jung, " No tree can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to Hell".

It all makes sense if I pay enough attention.  

Artist and the van that carries dreams/ creative writting

 The dream on 03/17/2023

 I had a dream of my mother driving a big van with me inside. The road was ink-dark.  The van did not have a headlight, and my mother kept driving.

I was scared. I wanted to find a way to turn the headlight on and I could not. We drove pass a toddler and a child. A toddler was seen inside a baby walker. Both children were in the middle of the freeway. For some reason, we did not run over even though they were on the way.

We kept driving on and on like this for a long time.  Again, the road was dark. Some time I saw smoke from the horizon. Then the car got stuck in the alley and stopped by itself.

We both got out. I saw a girl lying down in front of the van. I was not sure why she was there. I was not sure if she was dead or sleeping.

Mother and I walked pass the alley until we saw a bright light fill up the enormous space that showcased a fancy mall and the library. Both of us walked up and down the stairs. We saw a lot of people sitting, chatting, and drinking coffee. We tried to get back to the van. The place was huge, so we thought we would get lost.

Then I woke up.

The day before, my daughter, Bánh Xèo told me that she would like to go for an MFA program after BA.

I did not say a word. I just know. Yes, she does. 

 

 

My mother told me that she always wanted to be an artist from a very young age.  

She was born in South Vietnam. My grandfather was a skillful carpenter and poor. My grandmother was from a rich family who owned lands and rice fields. My grandmother, followed her heart to marry the one she loved, disowned by her family.  My mother had a big family with five other siblings. 

In 1954, when Vietnam was split into two entities at the 17th parallel, my mother was sent to the North by her parents, who were Communist sympathizers. She was told that she would go to school. My mother recalled that she loved to go to school so she agreed. She was 9 years old at that time. She did not understand either Communist or anti-Communist ideology. She did not know about the war or the splits. With the dream of going to school in mind, she left her family to go to an unknown place up North and did not see them back 21 years later. 

So, she went, studied for three years in China, and trained as a propaganda artist in Hà Nội. Propaganda artists got assignments from the government. When my mother had time to do art on her own, she did and that was what my mother did until she died. Art was her life, spirit, and soul. When she could not create art, she knew this was time for her to go. 

She told my little sister Mưa right before she died," I wanted to stay longer with my children and grandchildren. But my body told me this was time. Let me go. Please do not put me back in the hospital." She went peacefully shortly after that. 

She trained me to be an artist like her when I was 5 years old. I did not go to art school after graduating from high school. Artists did not make money and we were poor. I did not want to follow my mother's steps. I wanted to make money to help my mother out. She was disappointed but understood. 

But like my mother, I love to study. I love to go to school. I went to university but quit at the beginning of my third year when I was employed by Vietnam Airlines.  Helping my mother at that time was more important than going to school. She was sad but went along with my plan, which I did not know what it was. Deep down, both I and my mother understand how bad I wanted to come back to school. 

I married and moved to the US. With my husband's help, I had opportunities to go back to school and oh mind. I went to school for 10 years straight. What kind of husband supported his wife to go to school for a long time. He was. Beyond that,  he wholeheartedly supported me to be who I am. Yes. 

I have become an artist. I was surprised that I was comfortably good and happy at being an artist.

I carry my mother's blood through my veins. I run away from art but art somehow always finds a way back to me

Now it was my daughter and her cousin’s case that proved the same.

My daughter was trained as a swimmer and wanted to be a soldier, like her brother. She went to West Point to be a swimmer and soldier as she planned to do. Things were challenging at school. She kept herself afloat as a swimmer, not a soldier. Being a soldier is not her material. Being a leader is not in her element. 

This girl was tough. She soldiered on at Westpoint for two years. Then. 

She went to Hawaii University to join their varsity swim team and picked up art as one of her majors.

Her works are adorable and serious at the same time. This girl knows how to combine serious human emotions into her daily life stories. Her designs were simplified down to solid and basic forms. Yet, the voiceover of her art colorfully conveys and explores feelings and emotions through complex lenses. Her stories provoked audiences to think and created a platform so others could discuss various human conditions in much deeper levers. 

At the same time, my niece, Noel, as her mother nicknamed her, is studying at the university to be an architect.

When Noel was in high school, she was to be good at math and chemistry. She planned to study chemistry when she went to college. Mưa, my sister, and her husband spent time, money, and energy to help Noel to achieve that goal. In the middle of her senior year in high school, she told her family that she wanted to study architecture.

Mua told me. Noel follows Bà Ngoại ( Grandma) ’s footsteps. 

I did not say a word. I just know. Yes, she does.

Noel studied art to create her portfolio and entry exam to architecture school, which was highly competitive. She did not have difficulty doing so. She is now a sophomore at Ho Chi Minh Architecture University.

Like my daughter, Noel could spend hours drawing and painting and was happy to be alone in the studio.

 Like me. Like my mother.

My mother’s blood is running strong through three generations.

Back to the dream I shared from the beginning. Things start to make sense and reveal the truth.

In the dream, my mother was driving a van in total darkness. She kept driving and never stopped until she reached the light of the library. The car stopped itself. She followed her gut and listened to her heart even though she did not know where to go.  The van is a vessel to carry her dream and take her to her desired destination. She carried me along with her. Two children on the road were my daughter and my niece?

I am still puzzled about the girl who lay down in front of the car while we stopped. I will keep this interpretation open as I know dreams work in layers. I am sure about the bright light and library we went into.

I seriously thought that I did not want to be an artist from the beginning. Turns out, I did not have a choice because art is me and I am art in-separately. It is inside my body and blood. This is genetic. The rational mind has nothing to do with being an artist. The heart and guts do. 

Now I can say to my children, listening to your heart and guts, your dreams will come true. 

Everything else will be ok.  

Cậu Bạch 's postcard and my dreams /creative writing

 During the COVID, we stayed at home. I focused on doing the project that I called "COVID special" That were about 10 hand-made books using recycled materials such as newspapers, magazine images, my old sketches and drawings, our children's postcards and notebooks, and so on. This "COVID special" was done in the period of 2020 to 2023. 

I sorted out my mother’s things to see if I could add anything to my projects.

One postcard from Cậu Bạch, my mother’s long-time friend from Hà Nôi appeared in front of me.

He and my mother were art students and classmates at Hà Nôi Fine Art School.  After graduating, he was employed and became an artist working at the government bank. His main job was to design the image of once-beloved President Hồ Chí Minh to imprint into banknotes.

He loved my mother. My mother told me she could not love him as a lover. Both got married and have families of their own but stay connected. They remained friends until my mother passed away in 2011.

Cậu Bạch’s love for my mother was romantically boring yet enduring, I would say. 

I remember meeting him two times. One at our apartment in Sài Gòn when I was little and another time, when I was 22 went to Hà Nội to attend training provided by Vietnam Airlines, where I worked back there. 

The guy rode his bike from his hometown, Hà Đông to visit me at the hotel in the middle of Hà Nội. We were in the lobby, and I felt extremely awkward. Later I told my mother that I did not know what to say. And she nodded, "I know." 

 Cậu Bạch was tall with curly hair. His eyes were a little bit crossed. He looked like a nerd. He was honest and reserved verbally. When he talked in his monotone voice, his face would look flat and unemotional. He would ask boring questions to keep the conversation going. If he were in the crowd, he would blend in quickly and no one would remember anything about him afterward. If he were in school, he would be the first guy to be picked on and bullied.

 Yet, his countless letters and postcards for my mother painted a different story. He tirelessly poured his soul, his love, and his energy into writing. He had so much to tell my mother and the only way to do was write a letter to her. He could write a three-page -long letter asking how my mother and her children were doing. He could share how he; his wife and his children were doing. His letters were boring and authentically sounding like his face. But I gave this man a credit.

He faithfully wrote to my mother for 30 years.

Besides sending letters, he sent postcards on special occasions such as the Lunar New Year and birthday to my mother. Cậu Bạch was one of the most loyal people to my mother I could think of.

After my mother passed away, my sister, Mưa, called him from my mother’s phone list to inform him. Mưa told me that she was surprised, "his voice was cold receiving the sad news". I told her that he had a monotone voice. 

Mưa recalled that he briefly said, “ Yes, thank you.” and hung up the phone. Mưa said that she did not understand why because we all know how much he loved my mother. 

I understood. For years, my mother’s friendship with him functioned as the life support to keep him alive. When she was gone, his heart and soul were gone with her. He has nothing else to say, to feel, or to mourn.

 When I brought my mother's belongings to the US, I intentionally looked over and got rid of everything that related to Ba Minh, which was not a lot anyway. I intentionally chose not to have anything that may remind me of him. 

I believed that Cậu Bạch's postcard quietly tapped into my psyche and slowly brought back memories of Ba Minh, my trauma, and other unsettling things through my dreams.  

The New Year postcard he sent with a short note mentioned the names of my mother and three of us children’s names dated 1986. That year I was 15 years old. 

1986 was the year that my mother recovered from her illness and went back to teaching art. I started to go to high school. I started to bike to school by myself. My mother allowed me to grow my hair long because all of my head lice disappeared last summer after I graduated from junior high.  My social life expanded with new school, new friends, and new relationships. That was the year my mother bought a color television for the family for the very first time. Things started to look good and feel good for my family. 

 I glued Cậu Bạch's postcard onto one of my collage hand-made books.

After that, dreams started happening. 

I have been having deeply personal dreams leading back to my small apartment in Cao Thắng, where I lived for 27 years. I saw so many people go back to the apartment with me in my dreams. I had dreams that helped me to confront my own trauma that I never wanted to talk about. I had dreams that related to Ba Minh and his son that I never wanted to talk about. 

The postcard that led to my memory of our first TV gave me hints and clues about some sort of public communication that I need to address and process?  

All came up unconsciously night after night. I faithfully recorded the dreams in detail as best as I could. 

I knew eventually my personal dreams could help me find the answer to questions and solutions for several unfinished businesses in my past. 

I will continue to write and analyze my personal dreams. I know dreams work in layers. The more we write about it, the more the dream will reveal on a deeper level. 

From these dreams, I have opportunities to unpack my past, process what happened to my inner 12-year-old child, reconcile stuck relationships, and open up for internal healing to occur. The creative workshop that I participated in the last five weeks this year was also starting from recoding these dreams. 

Who would think that my healing journey started with Cậu Bạch 's postcard in 1986?

Dream

 I have a habit to write down my dreams the day after if I remember. I use this blog to quickly type it down to I could process it later. Usually, I do not post this kinda entry in public because it is confusing and personal. ( All the entries are personal but at least I was not confused ). 

A lot of dreams carried images and events do not make sense at first.  It would need a lot of time and clues and thingkings to kinda guess or most of the dreams, end up unconclusive. 

Dreams have been helping me to heal things in the past. It is hard to write down in Vietnamese so I keep doing it in English to record my dreams so far. 

Today I decided to share with someone  one of my dreams couple years ago. 

This one was done on Jan 26/2021 with the title Time or Reconciliation with the past.

Have been dreaming a lot about Cao Thang. 

1. I dreamt of my childhood friend Thao and Chien. Thao lived on the 3rd floor/me on the 4th/anh Chien on the 5th floor. We used to hang out a lot during that time. Me and Thao still stay connected on FB but I have not seen him in person since he left VN for Poland 30 years ago. If I saw him in person right now, I could have never recognized him. Nam, my brother said that he is living in Germany now. I remembered exchanging emails with him one time 10 years ago. He said that he is married with two children.

The dream at night kept leading me back to my apartment in Cao Thang. 

2. I dreamt of my ex-boyfriend with other friends and my mother inside my small apartment. He wore his white t-shirt. He said sorry and wished I would forgive him. He hugged me from behind. I felt his body heat, which felt real. It was warm and I remembered feeling comfortable. I did not say anything but smiled at him. 

3. Dream last night was the picture of the corner of Vo Van Tan and Cao Thang. Thy, her sister, and her daughter amd me. Four of us across the street. Thy and I went up to Cao Thang's apartment, not her sister and daughter. ( I guess because they never went up to my mother's apartment ) I could feel we both climbed upstairs and how tired it would feel for both of us. 

4. Dream happen last Sunday, after Thanks Giving. About my ex again. We were very intimate but not anything sexual. He showed me that he loved studying just like my best friend Miyuki. I  guessed the day before that night, Miyuki told me that she bought over 10 courses online because of the Black Friday promotion. She bought Trauma/Addiction and other courses for her continuing education practices. 

His images came back several times again and again. Gently. I guess I am slowly reconciling with my past through dreams like that. 

Note for today: My dreams showed me that you already said apologies and I already forgive you a while ago. It was a part of me and you. Like a dream. A long time ago. No need to either delete /curse or do whatever. Let it be. 

Timeline of this dream is off because sometimes I would write it down to my sketch or a piece of paper then type it back. But I know for sure the year is accurate. 2021 is important for it gives us proof that time can heal even though it would take such a long time.  I hope that the healing came from the dream unexpectedly, unconsciously, and vividly like this is the most sincere/truthful kind of healing so both can move on.

Have a long deep meditation tonight to welcome a next dream.