Today I am thankful for lucid dreaming.
I still dreamt of my former friend last night.
The candles were burned out. So, I got out of bed and relit them - wishing for someone else's happiness.
I fell asleep.
There was a message in the dreams I'm a Lirio de Los Valles (Lilly of the valley). This is a flower that blooms best in the darkness. Could be why I spend so much time with people down on their luck.
You know, to be completely honest about this, I'm a little creeped out that this guy shows up on my eldest daughter's Facebook 'people you may know list.'
They've never met. He's not my Facebook friend.
I don't know if that's his actual page and he's too afraid to ask me about math -or- if my stalkerish ex-husband made a fake account by copying his Facebook page to scare the hell out of me. Either way - I'm a little disgusted by that.
I left her dad after he Hendrixed the bass my daddy gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I didn't leave soon enough though. He put me in the hospital a week later. I almost died of a subdural hematoma.
I'm going to tell you this was the shortest marriage ever!
I remember that he called most of my friends and family asking if I left him for good. My aunt asked if the Steinberger was at the house. He said 'no.'
She told him that this is how they knew when I left my uncle's house as a teenager to move out on my own, the basses were gone.
This guy refused to sign the divorce papers for over four years, though. I left EVERYTHING behind except the ukulele grandma gave me when I was two, basses, saxophones and art. I didn't want any alimony or anything.
For about fourteen years after the divorce, he'd try to push me into his car and have sex with me. It never worked out for him.
This is why I love to wear 5" heels. They make it easier to kick asshats away.
I'll never understand men who hate women wanting to hang on to them.
This seems to happen to me too much.
Maybe I understand it all too well. Love and hate are part of the same experience. If we do what they want, they love us. If we don't, they hate us.
Life isn't a popularity contest.
I think about the insecure men who didn't want me to do the things I wanted to do because it took attention away from them so they meddled in my work.
Then I wonder.....maybe I didn't date male humans: Maybe I dated cats?
I am a big believer in karma. I am absolutely sure that these guys have dated controlling women who wouldn't let them follow their passions. If so, I wonder how much the world has missed out on if their contributions were muted?
It's something to think about.
****
As far as the star of my nightmares, I'm very good at loving at a distance.
I'm good at forgiving but not so good at forgetting.
It was good to remember why I hesitate around him.
I fear being controlled to the point of becoming someone else.
How does one overcome the bad stuff?
With these guys, I think it's about the good/bad ratio of memories I have with them.
That horny rancher from Washington State, ugh - I find it hard to do anything for him. I'd walk a mile in a blizzard for his poor wife and his other daughter. Him - not so much. I'll leave him out in the cold.
The man in the dreams, I don't know what he's going through. I'll pray for him but I don't have any real recent memories of good stuff that isn't heavy.
That could be due to the stalkers my ex-husband sent to crash the last visit we had.
Still - there is a huge disconnect between this person when we are alone and who he is online and around other people.
It's possible that I continue to embarrass him because I'm not a meek little woman.
Or that hotter women want him. Somehow I get the impression that he has money. Don't know if it's true. I really don't care. I have always tried to steal the check when he invited out to lunch (and won a couple of times, too). I miss that game because he seemed genuinely disappointed when I won. Sometimes he'd let me buy tiny things when I lost the game.
Money can be a curse. At least he knows that he was lovable when he had nothing.
My currency is creative energy. If you freak me out or cause me stress, I can't be the artist I am.
My creative endeavors help me make money and solve problems.
*****
As the millennials say "You do you."
Maybe someday I'll find someone who will let me be me.
Or maybe I can adopt the next stray cat I find in the streets.
Let's see if this realization ends the nightmares.
Soulmate, twin or whatever - there will be other lifetimes. Maybe next time, music won't exist and people won't try to destroy those among them with the least. Maybe we will reincarnate as dung beetles or rabbits.
Under those conditions, I'd probably have nothing better to do than [censored] all the damn time.
Praying he finds his happy.
Praying that you do you.
Love ya,
S.