More Dreams

 

Entry 10/16/2020

Today I'm thankful my subconscious is giving me permission to find a boyfriend. 

I probably won't ever publish this entry.  I'd like to document it for myself. 

This morning, 

I awoke after dreaming of my old friend walking towards me from my right field of view. 

His hair has receded a little bit.  

His face is gaunt (which really makes me sad). 

He wore a gray t-shirt and jeans.

('If I ever lose my faith in you' was playing in the background) 

I remember that clearly. 

Then I think I was  attempting to cook some fancy meal. 

It looked beautiful. 

He seemed to like it. 

If you know me, cooking is a skill I only have in my dreams. Seriously, when my eldest was old enough to get a library card (twelve), she brought home a slew of cookbooks.  The kids do ALL of the cooking in my home (sad, eh?) 

There was conversation about a certain aspect of love

 and a request that I promise  

not to hold myself back from love out of shame 

because he knew who I really was.

Yeah, he's probably the only person in the world who remembers my real hair color, too.  Funny story, the day he broke up with me, I ran to the salon with a picture from a magazine.  I wanted thick curls that hit my shoulder like the girl in the picture.  I wanted to be pretty.  

Believing that my curly afro was a thing of my toddlerhood, I let the hairdresser give me a perm.  I emerged from the salon looking like Little Orphan Annie. 

I'm not kidding, my hair went bright red.  I've had that color, pretty much, since that day.  I'll dye my hair black once in a while, trying to figure out my natural hue.  In fact, it's black today but the color is fading (the roots are auburn though, so I'll probably add some highlights today or tomorrow to make it match because I dislike dying my hair). 

I miss my brown eyes.  Part of me thinks that if I can find my original hair color, I'll get my brown eyes back.  They're green now. 

To be fair, the dream is probably just my subconscious mind telling me that I need to find a boyfriend.  

Mercury Retrograde is causing me to go insane and focus in the wrong direction, isn't it?

I'm shocked I literally saw his face in great detail in that dream.  

Entry 10/17/2020

Another dream this morning: 

I stood about a foot behind a thick wall of ice 

and could see a silhouette of my friend on the other side.

I walk closer and notice that he is writing on the wall.  

I read the phrases. 

I love you. 

How could you? 

Why? 

It's obvious.

Can't trust you. 

Hurt. 

Pain. 

I try to respond. 

Writing backwards is harder than I thought. 

I love you. 

What's going on?

Talk to me.  

Here for you. 

Frustrated by the lack of communication 

I just stand there close to the wall crying

 until my face sticks to the ice. 

I can't move. 

 

That's pretty much the situation right there.  

I can't talk to my friend.  I want to believe that he ignores me because he's got a hottie at home.  

In the past, I'd get a global request to write a blurb about him on a website (for promotion) and I'd ask about his job so I'd it get it right but he'd never respond. 

Once I toured our high school and sent him photos of the renovation and he never responded.  I'd invite him to all class reunions and never hear back. 

I figure he found a wife and left him alone. 

I'm an ex.  Maybe he can't be my friend. 

Hmmmm......

There were times I received emails from someone with his full name but the content wasn't in his writing style and the email addresses were not his.  They were sent to emails of mine he never knew about (I used them for academic purposes).  I assumed those were sent by my ex-husband to try to gauge what was going on.  I ignored those. Our relationship wasn't like....that.

How do I describe it?  Like an overtly filthy song.  Like the energy of my marriage before my mother-in-law made it known she hated me and started threatening people. 

That's why I suspected the emails were from the ex-husband. They were not something my friend would send.  These were sent during the height of the stalking. 

My friend speaks in metaphor.  His emails are visually oriented and compartmentalized. They flow like poetry. I don't know how to describe it.  I guess, I'd use the phrase classy.  

Something feels off. 

I can't date anyone until the dreams stop because once I'm asleep, my voice will betray me yet again.  

I am stuck to the ice in real life.  

The weirdest piece of this is that I literally painted this scene in 1987, well.....except his shape was more angular because triangles were all the rage at the time.  I remember being exceptionally proud because I used spray paint to give the entire ice wall a glossy feel.  

I sprayed the pain* in little puddles and used my finger to move it across the paper before it dried.  

I probably got high doing that.  

I'd bet that painting is still in my closet with all the minutia of the past that I forgot to remember. 

*****

Mercury Retrograde is unsettling.  I bet I'm going to endure three more weeks of this. 

On the bright side, I'm going to see if a new exercise routine helps resolve the stress surrounding the obsessive rumination over the dreams. 

After recounting yesterday's dream, I have this urge to go bathe in scalding salt water.  

I'm off to do just that. 

I have the next two days off so I'll go trolling the guitar shops to see what I can pick up.  Maybe that'll distract me. 

Love ya, 

S. 

* Another Freudian Slip - I meant to type 'paint'