Lynn
A 53-year-old member of the Moss Park community who has lived in the Regents Park area of Toronto since the 1970s. Interviewed in April 2025 and edited clarity. Illustration by Melinda Josie ©2025.
I have a hard time [getting] to sleep. Not because my mind's going or nothing like that. I'm just a night person. Like, I don't need a lot of sleep. I've been like that since I was young. I feel better if I sleep just for a couple hours than if I slept all day. And I feel more energetic, healthier. I don't know. It's weird. Like I said, since I was young, I've always been like that. I was willing to always go to bed anyway, like, you know what I mean? But I wouldn't sleep. Like, I would write, I would draw. But I'd be in my bed, like, you know what I mean? Because my mom would have to put me to bed at a certain time, but she didn't mind if I was drawing in my bed or whatever. I just don't sleep really much[laughs]. I don't have insomnia or nothing like that. That's what I mean. I just, I'm not really ever tired, you know? I just need a couple hours and I'm fine.
I dream a lot about my family. I lost my whole family pretty much back-to-back. Like, my sister, my brother, my mom, all died two-and-a-half-years ago. The same year, same month, a week apart. And then a year later, my brother. And then a year after that, my son's father. My dad died in 1997. That was years ago. My mom always told us—she’s from the Maritimes, I don't know, they used to think it was a myth, but I don't believe it was—my mom said, if you touch a person's forehead with your hand or you give them a kiss on their forehead, you'll never dream of them. My mom told me that when I was at my dad's funeral. And I've never dreamed of him. I don't know if it's coincidence, but I don't dream of my dad at all. But I dream of my other siblings and my mom.
I dream a lot about my brother. Me and him were close and yeah, I dream a lot about him. And it's not like I'm thinking about him prior just going to sleep. It’s just… I dream a lot about him. It's weird. That's my most of dreams though, my family. It's always things like when we were children and it's always good things. There's wasn't nothing bad. Like our Christmases, our birthdays. Like, I grew up like in Regent’s Park, but even though a lot of people say, “Oh, you must have had an awful upbringing.” Like, no, I didn't. I was actually very well cared for. I lived there from the ‘70s until the ‘90s. And I had a very good upbringing, actually. I had really good parents. Yeah. Got a lot of love. Yeah. A lot of love.
I had one [dream] last night. We were at, uh, we had a cottage at Rice Lake. And we were at Rice Lake, and I remember my, like, I fell asleep in the sun, and I woke up and I said, “Oh my God, mom, my arms are burning, my arms are burning.” And I had blisters from sunburn. And she goes, “Calm down. It's okay. It's okay.” I said, “Oh mom, I'm burning, what's wrong? What is this, mommy? What is this?” [laughs]. [laughs]And she goes, “It's only a blister, calm down.” [laughs]. But I was like, a hypochondriac. I was like, “Mom!” And I wouldn't stop. And she goes, “Just calm down.” [laughs].. I forget what she put on it. Oh, butter, that's what it was. She got some butter. Well, it wasn't butter, it was margarine, but, and she rubbed it on there and it soothed it down. And then she said, “Don't go back out in that sun there. Don't go out in that sun. I'm telling you now.” [laughs]. I said, “But I wanna go in the lake.” She goes, “Not now you're not.” It was funny though. But it wasn’t funny at the time. It was funny after.
And then, I think it was last Friday. It was a dream of my brothers. Stupid me. I fell for it all the time. You know, when you're a kid and you make those bike ramps? And they get a person to lay down? Well, stupid me, my brother goes, “Lynn, lay down there.” I said, “okay.” I go running along, lay down there under the ramp. He drove right over my nose. And it never even broke my nose. Nothing. And then, later that day, he goes, “Come here. I wanna show you something.” I go, “What?” He says, “See this pea?” You know, the green peas. He goes, “Put one up your nose. Go like that.” So I go, “Okay.” I couldn't get it out. And I started crying. I can't get it out. And I'm going like this [gestures]. My mom, she goes, “What's wrong?” And I go, “Mom, he told me to put a pea up my nose. And he said If I sneeze it, it'll go ping. I just need to make it to fly.” [laughs]. So, I fell for it. I'm the baby. And I fell for it all the time. Had to go to the hospital to get the damn thing out, because it was way up. He was always getting me do things. I'd fall for it. That was the funniest stuff. So I go to my mom, “I can't get it out.” And I'm talking like that. And she goes, “What did they do to you this time?”
Oh yeah, and then he got a dog—well, this was the best one—he got a dog collar. And I dreamt about that one three nights ago. He got a dog's leash and hooked me to the clothes’ line, and he goes, “Try to run and see if it snaps.” And he goes, “Just pull.” And meanwhile, all of a sudden I go, bang! And I'm flying right back[laughs]. But he got a kick out of me. But this is true. He was always doing something to me, but I never got hurt. Like, you know what I mean? But that one over my nose, I don't know how my nose didn't get broke, he literally drove right over my nose. And mama said, “What were you thinking? Why would you do that to your sister?” “Mom, we didn't mean to drive over her nose.” She said, “Well, what would you think?”
I never had [these memories come back in dreams before]. It just started this year. Yeah. It was weird. It just started this year. I don't know why, but I've been thinking about my brother a lot. My one brother. Because me and him, everyone used to think we were twins. We looked identical, but we didn't really look like our mom so much. But we had different dads. That what was weird. And I said, mom, “Are you sure?” [laughs]. “I'm not saying you're a bad mom, but you slept around.” But yeah, it was like we looked identical. Like we looked like identical twins.
And my mom had a kind of a bigger nose, like a big “I nose ‘ya.” That's what we used say to her. And me and him have a small nose. Like, our faces were identical and we didn't have the same dad, but we didn't look like our mom so much. That was weird. Yeah. I still can't figure that out. How is that possible? [laughs].
I took his death hard. I took his death hard. Because we were just so close. And like, every time him and his wife—she passed away on my birthday in 2000—and, uh, he gave up on himself after that. It was just like, know what I mean? He was always dressed to the nines. He wasn't a good guy, he was a booster, stealing at the store. But anyway, he always looked good, and he took care of himself. But after she died, it really just fucked him right up. And, uh, where was I going with this? What was I saying with this?
Oh yeah. Yeah. And he took his girlfriend's death hard. And I was talking about her to my daughters. And then it seemed like after that I started dreaming about him.
And the other day, I felt like he was with me. I really felt like he was over my shoulder. I literally felt that. Like, I could actually feel it. It was weird. Yeah. And then, we road here, and all of a sudden, this is an old song I've never heard in so long Fleetwood Mac. The song Dreams. You know the song Dreams? And that's my favorite song. All of a sudden this guy comes walking out and he's playing it. And my brother used to sing it to me all the time. And that was weird. The combination of it. And I was just talking about him outside before that guy came out. And go figure, the song was Dreams. I just, I always feel him with me. Yeah.
It's always happy thoughts. But he could make you laugh. Like he was a comedian. I swear to God, he was born with that talent, like, he could make some voices. Like one time, you know, he was with my dad—they're like my three older siblings. Him, my brother, and my sister. They were the three oldest. And then me and my sister. I was the baby. We had the same dad, but them three had the same dad. But he passed. And my mom's a widow. She never changed her last name. And, uh, he, uh, I forget where I'm going with this now again[laughs].
Oh yeah, so my dad. [My brother] phones up my dad—because my dad was a social worker—and says, “Mr. Penol, uh, you have an appointment tomorrow to come see us down at Parliament Street”—when we used to have the social services office there. And he goes, “Okay, at which time?” “1:30. Make sure your here maybe 10 minutes before that.” He says, “No problem. I'll be there.” And it was my brother. So, my dad goes in and asks—I forget the guy's name—and they go, “We don't know your job counselor.” And he goes, “He called me yesterday. He told me I had an appointment today.” And they go, “But we don't have anybody here by that name.” And he goes, “How is that fucking possible? I got a phone call yesterday. And he told me to be down here.”
But he was so good at it. You would never even know it was him. He was good. Oh, he could make you laugh. Like, he was always happy and always making jokes. But I mean, he could make you laugh. Like pee yourself. And my mom used to say, “I swear to God, he should've been a comedian.” Like he could make you laugh.
You ever have a dream where you think you're falling, but you always wake up before you hit the bottom? Well, my sister—I don't know if she was just saying it; I still believe she was making it up a lot, but I could be wrong—she seemed to dream it a lot. And she fell off a roof one time and she don't remember going, falling down, but she remembers hitting the ground. But it really happened. And then about two months later, it happened to her again. And then she fell off the schoolyard roof. But she was always climbing the roof. And then we went pool hopping. One time, the city pools were outdoors, and we climbed the fence. And well, she climbed on the fence, and she went foop! right down. Fell over the other side. It wasn't very high. But she said, “Why me? Every time I climb somewhere I fall.” [laughs]
But she always had the dreams of falling and she'd wake up. All the time. It really affected her. And she said, mom, “Is that true?” Like, and my mom said, “I don't know.” She said, “I believe it probably would happen if you didn't wake up.” Because everybody seems to wake up. We don't know. But I believe it probably would happen, that you would die. But she dreamt it all the time. And then she'd always fall off roofs. But she's like a tomboy, right? But yeah, but she was a clutz.
[I record my dreams] in my diary. That's it. I write a lot. I just write about my day. Like I don't write diaries like, “Well I met this boy, I wish I could go with him” or whatever. I write, like, when I go home now, I'll write the notes about how I just met you. Like, that's what I do. I write my whole life.
Because I was homeless. I've been homeless. After my family passed, after I took care of my mom at home. And she was 80. It was hard, but not as hard because of her age. It was a lot easier because of her age, right? She was comfortable. She didn't want to be resuscitated. She didn't want to, but, uh, it was hard just waiting for her to die. People don't understand that. Like maybe, you know, there's some people that go through the responsibility, the treatment, this and that. But no, she had breast cancer and when it finally got to her brain, that was pretty much the end. And when the doctor came, for the home visit, he said, “I got something to tell you now.” He said, “This is the hard part.” I said, “Well, I don't think I can be any harder.” He said, “No, this is gonna be the hard part. Because she's gonna go into it and not know you.” Well, let me tell you, that was the hard part. And I'd go in the room and cry. I can cry now.
And at one point she said to me, “Your mom and my mom are going fishing today.” I said, “Oh, are they, Mary? Well, I hope they catch us some big fish.” Because [the doctor] said, “Don't try to change her mind.” He said, “Just go along with it.” So I did. But it was hard because I stayed strong till the end. And then, you know, and it was my sisters and I, and my brother in between. And I did all the funeral myself. And I stood strong. And like I said, I never got help for it because I believe counseling for stuff like that…the more you talk about them, its more depressing. That's the way I look at it. Because you can't bring them back. So why you want keep talking about them? You know, unless it's when you talk about good times. But I say goodnight to them every night. I don't know if they can hear me, but I never miss a day. I say it out loud, I say, “Goodnight, mom. Goodnight Carolin. Goodnight Kevin. Goodnight Tommy.” Every night.
I don't really care to share things like that with people that…they don't really care, you know? I'm not new. I'm not stupid. I've had my drug days and its reality, right? So, I really don't care to share it with them. You know what I mean? And I write it, but it's not the same as talking to somebody because you get actual verbal feedback with their opinion, right?
And this place, exactly where we are right now [at Moss Park], this was the place where my dad used to go to. Back in the day, this was called the Canada House. And back in the day, they had the men's side and the women's side. The waiters wore a white shirt and black pants. 50 cent drafts. Yeah. The famous Canada House. Yeah, and where the ice rink is, I used to go swim there. I've moved to South Regent Park in #1411. It's the high rise. It's a newer modern building. But I went to Park school. Or Nelson Mandela School. I went to Park School, and I lived in the same house from ‘76 to ‘98. I've seen a lot of things.
I did have good, a very good upbringing. Like, I was the type of kid, like, I had a lot of friends that didn't have a lot. And I would take one home every day for lunch, and my mom would say, “You know what, I'm gonna kill you.” Like, you know what I mean? But I said, “Mom, they got no food.” But she would never turn them away. “Okay, make this the last one.” And I'd bring another one home[laughs]. Then I'd bring one home for supper. But my mom knew, you know what I mean?
But I had this one girl, and I watched her every day. She'd wait till everybody was gone from the schoolyard. She was the only Chinese girl. She was tiny for her age. I don't know why she caught my eye. I dunno what made me go up to her. I didn't know her, but I'd watch her every day. And she always had to same clothes on pretty much. And they were soiled. It was sad. And I knew something was wrong. So I said, I'm gonna wait for her one of these days. So I waited and I walked up to her and I said, “Why do you wait till everybody's gone from the school yard?” I said, “Iis something bothering you?” And uh, she goes, “No, I just don't like the crowds.” I said, “Come on, you're lying.” And I was only grade four—I don't know how I knew this, like the smartness of it—I said, “You're lying.” I said, “Somebody’s picking on you.” And there was, these three big black girls were picking on her. I seen them out the back, in the school yard. And they were riding around, waiting around. I said, “Are those the three girls that are bugging you?” And she goes, “Yeah.” I said, “Let's go.” She goes, “Oh, no, no, no.” I said, “Let's go.” So the first big one came up and I just wham! And I knocked her out cold. And I said, “Now they won't bug you again.” [laughs]Yep. I did. Yeah, I could fight. I didn't like to insult, but I ran home and said, “Mom, I could the kill somebody.”
But what happened was—it's a sad story—what happened was we became really close friends growing up. And I’d bring her to my house all the time. All time. And one day I said, “Mom, can you give her a bath and do her hair and give her some of my clothes?” And she goes, “Oh, Lynnie. That's so nice.” She said, “I don't know about you. She said, you are just one of them angels, I tell you.” And, uh, so we did. I said, “Mom, can you keep her? [laughs]
And mom said, “No, we can't keep her.” I said, “Well, mom, she probably lives bad.” I'd never been to her house. I mean, she lived in the townhouses back in the day on River, on River and Linda [streets]. So I said, “Let's go to your house today for once.” And I'm telling you, I don't know how I knew this; like I shouldn't have been that smart enough to figure all this out. And she goes, “No, I have to ask my mom first.” I said, “Okay, well let's go. I'll wait outside. You can ask her.” So, she says, “Oh, just wait out here and I'll ask my mom.” I said, “No, I'm coming in.” So I walked right in. Because I knew. Oh Lord, when I walked in there – there was a bunch of nothing but fucking blockheads. And her mom sitting there with all these men, they were playing the guitars. They were all over the floor. It was sad. Nosey me. I opened up her fridge. Know what was in there? Nothing but beer and a bowl of water. Potatoes cut up. We ate them with salt. That was my favorite. That's all it was in there.
So I said, “Let's go up to your room.” Her mom didn't even see us walk out. And uh, and she goes, “No.” Her bed was so soiled. I cried. It was that bad. And I said, “Let’s go, you're coming home with me.” So, I said, “Mom, her mom said she could stay over for the weekend.” Her mom didn't say that though. I just told my mom that. And I said, “Don't tell my mom any different. Tell my mom that your mom said you can.” She goes, “Okay.” I said, “I mean it! I don’t wanna send you back home.” I said, “Well then, you can't get me in trouble.” So, anyway, she came and I told my mom—I never lied to her—and I said, “Mom, I went to her house. You should see her house.” But back then, in my generation, it was alcoholic drugs story. I'm sure you probably know that. Like, there was a lot of that back then. A lot of pedophilia, very bad.
And, uh, long, long story short, because I don't really want talk about because it saddens me still today, but, um, her uncle was raping her all the time. And nobody even knew. I didn't even know. So, one day she didn't come to school, and so I said that's fine. And then she wasn't there again the next day. I said, “Mom, let's go to her house.” I said, “Mom, there's something wrong.” So, we went and knocked on the door, and her mom goes, “What? Who’s at the fucking door?” And my mom just opened the door, and she goes, “I am you fucking bitch. Where's your daughter?” “I don't know. She’s outside playing her somewhere.” Never seen her. Her daughter was not around for two days. So, I heard the dog barking in the basement. So, I said, “Mom, why don’t you go down to the basement?” And she was, uh, she was hung. She hung her fucking self. And she left a note and said, “Sorry, Lynn. I couldn't tell ya.” And then she told me what happened, and she said, “I'm sorry to hurt you.” She said, “I love you for everything you've done for me.” And my mom went upstairs and beat the shit outta her mom so bad. I said, “Mom, stop, Mom stop, Mom, you're gonna kill her.” She said, “I don't give a fuck.”
I was 16. And she just said her uncle raped her. Yeah, and that stayed with me and still says with me today. But when I went to her funeral, I touched her forehead, and I don't dream of her. I've never dreamt of her. But not a day goes by I don't think her. I think of her every fucking day. I don't know why. It's not like I see somebody that looks like her. She's never left my mind because I wish she would've told me. You know? It’s Not that I blame myself. I I I couldn't have done something, not like that. I just wish she could've told me. You know, I wish she would've. I just imagine when she went through and that I didn't even know. You know? Yeah.
But life goes on. You know, you can't, you can't bring them back. All you do is just remember the good times, right? That's all you can do. And that's what I do. That's how I cope with it. You know, I just don't let them go and forget about them. Because that's all you can do. Like I said, you can't bring them back.