I had two dreams last night. I rarely have different dreams, and I feel like since I remembered them, and since they were so violent, they probably have something to do with life right now.
I usually dream in short movies- like sitcom segments. They break for commercial and a different dream starts. (My attention span when I’m sleeping is appearently scaringly less than when I’m awake.)
The first dream was a spaceship, or something in space. It was a space house? A few rooms, all decorated, but lots of dressers. In my dream I went room to room and ended in his room. He was packing his bags, for outerspace? Who knows. I was begging him to unpack. Dream ended.
The next dream was more violent. I was walking along a cliff, (It’s always the same cliff my dreams- they’re all connected by the same cities I dream about, same cliffs.) And I looked down to a tiny village farther down that I could imagine falling. I backed away from the edge and walked over to a parking lot and there was a mini-van, (it’s always the van, isn’t it?) And three armed people got out and a man- who looked scary but I remember his kind eyes- told me he was going to kill me. I remember chasing after toddlers, (three,) of them, and holding them explaining that he couldn’t kill me because I had to rescue these toddlers. He allowed me to bring the toddlers in the house, but the one gunman kept following me- threatening me. I looked down the barrel of his gun several times. I’ve never been shot in a dream. I was more worried of breaking that record than anything else. I stared at his eyes for a while- why did this man want to kill me?
You leaving me- destroys me, a little. That’s what I get from it. (Quite literally, thankyouverymuch.) The packing and the handing over of the things, and the knowing goodbye is so very permanent, (to outer space even,) and the threat of death- that’s what it is, isn’t it?
He came back into my life for a while, because I’m weak- and as much as I put on my big girl shoes, and claim I don’t need anyone- I still wanted him. People go their whole lives not being able to say aloud, “I loved him.” So? I loved him. Every, piece of me- the hidden pieces, the big pieces, the small pieces- loved that man. Meh. Love means nothing- but I’ll get on here and say it.
I talked to fers today, and he said a quote that got me thinking. The times I miss someone? The weekends. Not so much the weeknights, because Im trying to be a superhero most of the time, (and failing,) but the weekend mornings, with the smell of pancakes- does me in. I imagine us, in bathrobes, eating pancakes and watching the kids watching cartoons. (It’s all very Full House, right?)
(1:10:06 PM) Fers: most of the times when I think to myself it’d be to be in a relationship again, it’s because I want someone in the morning to tell me that my clothes don’t match.
I think we all have our moments of missing-dom. When we long for something that we don’t have at that moment. (I miss funds in my bank account most of all.) There will be moments I miss the people who’ve left my life. I’ll see a Husker’s sweatshirt or bumper sticker and I smile and think of Jay. I’ll smell baked goods and think of Rigdon and French Meadow. I’ll taste alfredo and think of my Bre. And- I’ll look at the stars and think of Josh. That’s what life is about- carrying these memories with us, but not letting the pain overwhelm. When I figure out the last part of that sentence, I’ll let you know.