Comforting Dreams

Today I am thankful for comforting sleep and sweet dreams.

For the first time in years, I slept eight hours. 

The essiac tea makes me tired.  I get feverish.  My stomach hurts and I fall asleep. 

I have the sweetest dreams.  

In my dream, I was at my office. 

I had finished up from a day seeing clients needing to grow their confidence and ran across the street to a post office within a gift shop.....it is much like the old shop in the town where I grow up.  The gift shop where I grew up became my first office.  

Sigh.... 

The revealing thing about this is that my favorite clients are artists and musicians needing help growing their confidence or overcoming performance anxiety. 

Perhaps....when I'm well....I should advertise solely to people needing this help.  

My friend was there.  This was my closest friend in high school.  The guy that looked like my dad and was so hard to kiss. 

His father thought I looked like his mother, so I am pretty darn sure it was awkward for him, too. 

In my dream, we wound up at my home sitting on the couch talking.  I was tired.  He asked me to sleep. 

Sleep I did.  

It was nice.  

Right before waking up in real life, I dreamt that I woke up to him stating that he wanted to buy donuts for his colleagues and visit his accountant to do his taxes.  We walked and grabbed coffee and donuts.  I waited for him in the accountant's office. 

In my dream, as I waited in the office, my ex-husband came in and plopped down a huge book of formulas and calculations onto a chair.  I could see the complicated math as the pages moved. 

Someone has been busy manipulating numbers. 

My ex-husband looked at me and said.....

"I made a mistake."  

This is where I woke up.  

*****

I feel like I did at sixteen.  I want to sing.  I want to play bass.  I want to paint....everything.  I want to paint the walls, canvas, paper, my car.....everything.

I want to dance.

I'm me. 

My friend didn't know this about me -but- even then I had a political streak a mile wide.  He met me after my foster care stint and right before the foster care system turned my sister into a prostitute. 

My uncle was a political figure; he was well known and aspired to be the mayor of a tiny town.  At sixteen, my head was filled with stories of my great-great-great maternal uncle who was, arguably, one of the worst Presidents to ever try to lead this country. 

Grant died of cancer, too. 

I still feel the urge to run over to share to my frenemies in the statehouse my story about the way Colorado allows deadbeat dads to ignore their obligations.  Our legislators are looking to make cuts.  The Colorado Department of Human Services was begging to keep their funding yesterday. 

No... it should be cut.  Perhaps now is the time to share.  Why should taxpayers pay them to abuse the law?  

I've spent time trying to research what was going on.  I'm hoping to find some sort of collusion between the Department of Human Services and The Denver Rescue Mission.  

In my research, I found things that made me sad for my ex.  Some people in these programs are writing about how they are forced to wear rags so that people who visit feel compelled to donate more money to these programs.  The worst stories I read were about the Salvation Army women's shelters. 

By keeping their residents dirt poor, these charities can rake in the dough. 

I don't trust the government farther than I can spit.  As little as I trust the government, I trust public-private partnerships less.  

Messes fall into my life so I can scheme to clean them up. 

*****

I met with a lawyer this morning.  Yes, Colorado does have a loophole that enables men to get out of child support by refusing to work.  

She had a hard time believing that the Colorado Parent Employment Project put my ex in a 27 month rehab program.  I showed her the letter.  

Something still seems off.  

If I pass away, she will represent my oldest daughter in claiming custody of the other children. She will ensure that all my assets transfer to the person taking care of the kids.  

My ex.....well....he's basically abandoned the kids.  It's going to be awfully hard for him to lay claim to them. 

The day was not lost. 

Yeah, their father made a mistake.  I can't correct it for him. 

He just left another mess for me to clean up. 

I have to say that the hardest question to answer is why.

When people ask why I left, I mention the stalking.

Then they want to know why.  Why did his sister follow me?  Why did his brother-in-law harass me on the street?  Why did my mother-in-law harass my landlord? Why did his father corner me?  Why did his uncle run up to me in the street to glare at me?

Why?

I don't know.

This lawyer pointed out that my ex is a mess and that I obviously didn't know him.

She's right.

I have no clue who he is.

The relationship is so complicated, it's like the U.S. tax code.

I'll never understand it.

I probably feel the same way about my ex as I do taxes. 

That's not saying much - I'm a libertarian.

*****

In my reflections while sitting in traffic, I realize that it was the innocence of that first relationship that makes it so wonderful.  We were together prior to taxes and marriage and business and kids.

It was simple.

My family situation made it complicated but it didn't really matter so long as I avoided them.

With my old friend, life was simple.  We even played on the playground together.  Those are moments I miss.

We were children on the cusp of adulthood.

Even when we've met recently, it has all been in innocence.  It seems so synchronistic.  My favorite memory has to be of the clown blowing up balloons behind him as we sat in a coffee shop.  One oblong balloon appeared to be growing out of his thigh.

I laughed.

He refused to turn around for several minutes.  By the time he turned around, the clown and the hordes of children were gone.

Everything about our time together is innocent.

In 4-15-2010, I played hooky from a political event because he asked me to lunch.  My friends were giving speeches at the capitol in order to protest the tax system.  I promised to be there holding their signs and being supportive.

I missed it.  I briefly mentioned it and my friend took off from the restaurant as though he had forgotten to file his taxes.  The waitress told me she could tell by the look in his eyes that he loved me and had a hard time leaving.

Yeah....I'm sure he loves me the way one would love a family dog.

The relationship has an innocent flavor to it.  It doesn't work so well for people in their fifth decade of life.

I'll still treasure it.

It brings me comfort on some level.

*****

They say when people die, their brain takes them to peaceful thoughts as their final moments approach.  

I wonder.....if I've already seen the part of my life that will flash before my eyes on that fateful day. 

I'll find out in the next few weeks if that day is coming sooner rather than later. 

Love ya, 

S.