Today I am thankful for valerian-infused Vodka.
For years, I've had creepy dreams of an old,
old,
old,
old,
old,
I think there needs to be one more...
old...
boyfriend.
The dreams are either of him dying gruesome deaths
or ruining our lives.
The dreams creep me out to the point I scream his name.
The screaming the name makes it hard for me to be in an intimate relationship.
So -
I have a huge house to myself
and a whole slew of lies I tell if someone is here and happens to hear me scream out that infernal name.
My favorite line is:
"I dreamt I was Getty Lee singing...."
Modern Day Warrior,
mean,
mean,
stride...
No one buys the lie, ever.
I thought it would be okay if I fell in love with a guy with that name.
It's never happened.
There is a beautiful man named Tim, though.
We had so very much in common; we both studied music, played numerous instruments, loved helping the homeless, we had a penchant for being in the public eye -
but he is a legalistic Christian.
We are both very prayerful and faithful people.
We just don't pray the same way.
It took five years of prayers -but- he finally got married last year.
Yeah, he married during Covid so I got to cry while watching him and his gorgeous bride tie the knot from my cold phone.
I love it when my prayers are answered.
****
In the past, the only thing that stopped the dreams of that blast from the past was being too busy to sleep.
It wasn't a problem when I was in college and working full time.
When I went to graduate school, they hit with full force.
So -
I choose to be alone.
Common knowledge promises that time will heal all wounds, all pain, and help people move on.
Common knowledge is lacking.
****
In July of last year, the dreams got ultra-creepy.
I've been doing rituals "to give [dude] that which he needs the most."
and for me "to only act appropriately** if our paths cross again."
In some of the dreams -
I'm not myself.
The rituals are awkward. It was really weird last week. A relative went into my room and stared at the white candles. She probably thinks I'm up to something disgusting. She knew the verbally obnoxious bullshit this person used to say to me.
No, I don't want him back. I'm just trying to protect him and finally get some sleep.
Once in a while, someone will ask about him. Why did I let him go?
Well....we want different things in life.
I have no clue what he wants; maybe to behave like a toxic man making women look small for his ego. He did that to me when I was in the papers. He made fun of my politics on Facebook, in front of the reporters who connected to me on that infernal website.
I can't have a man like that around me.
What do I want? I want to end the political bullshit that limits our freedoms and hurts those among us with the least*.
Let's just say we are very different people.
*****
Enter vodka....
The problem with alcohol is that it messes with our sleep cycles so that I sleep around three hours before waking up and go about my day.
No REM sleep = No dreams.
I'm exhausted but my heart isn't hurting anymore.
Alcohol messes with blood sugar and leads to weight gain.
I also find myself eating too much to stay awake.
The older one gets, the harder extra weight is on the joints.
In other words, I can't do this forever.
Besides, it doesn't stop all of the dreams.
****
Once in a while, the Chango dream leaks through -
It won't be long before I meet the one who will help me with the homeless. Chango shows me how I'll meet him.
He also shows me that the majority of people living in the streets are there because of racism. I had a recurring dream of an older man of color praying beside a green trash can.
Yes, people pray for help.
If time could heal all wounds, there is a huge wound that needs healing.
It's a shame people in power do more to keep the wound from healing than to help it heal.
Good thing I don't listen to the liberal white asshats trying to teach bullshit theories based on race that make people of color out to be weak and Caucasian people to be heartless and stupid.
With all the help I get from Oschun and Chango, I must have some African blood in my DNA. Or maybe it is due to my family history of fighting to end slavery.
I wonder if those white professors know what happened to the freed slaves in the south who hadn't won the protection of whites in power?
I doubt it. Few people seem to know about the mass graves.
Disgusting, race-baiting theories are only going to slow down the healing of a messed-up society.
****
Perhaps the dreams are to remind me to love EVERYONE and to work on keeping everyone safe and free.
****
I took about a decade off to raise the kids my ex refuses to help and a couple of kids whose parents abandoned them for their sexual orientation.
The last one is about to graduate from high school.
It feels like all of the fights I let go of are staring me right in the face now.
The loss of our civil rights,
abusive conservatorship,
tax hikes said to help the poor but the money never goes where promised,
so many things.
The Divine is shoving these things in my face until they are solved.
My prediction was right, however, the new transplants to Aurora fixed the murderous pit bull government.
There must be more people in this city to help with the other issues.
If I keep putting off the war, I will meet more people suffering the same issues.
I know what I have to do.
There is a meeting a couple of weeks from now to determine if I'll have the backing of a group of people.
We'll see.
*****
I had a relative stop by yesterday to survey the damage to my garage.
It terrified her. We spoke of a plan.
She advised me to move out of the country because of my ex-husband and his creepy family. She's seen this too much over the past thirty years and is afraid he's going to murder me.
I'm going to take out yet another home improvement loan and secure my home with thicker doors.
My house will be a fortress.
I wish my heart were one.
Love ya,
S.
-*
** not speaking Latin, not falling for any emotional dishonesty, not worrying about him if he claims (again) that it wasn't his idea to get into a certain place (move in or marry someone described as toxic) or any excuse he offers up for some of the weird shit he's done in the past.
Let's see;
- he's ridiculed me publicly, writing that I thought myself to be "Ann Rand" only proves he has no clue who I am,
- years ago, he forgot about breaking up with me and followed me to my apartment several months later and waited for me outside of my window. It is said that he allegedly tried to beat up my roommate in a convenience store. Luckily, for him, tough guys don't engage in small fights.
Talk about toxic masculinity! As they say, toxic folks attract toxicity so I'm not shocked about the stories.
To be quite honest, I don't know why this man came back three times. There are other men I've known since childhood who come back to visit. None have incited violence and none have ridiculed me in a public forum.
Maybe the dreams are a dress rehearsal warning me to behave myself (no cursing, no glaring, and no falling for sappy shit that'll just break my heart again).
I have no clue. It's almost as if I have to remember the bs because running into him at some point is inevitable.
When I do, I need to behave myself.