Dreams, Nightmares, and Cartoons
I had a dream wherein I was with John and we had some sort of yearbook that he was writing in for me, like kids would write in one another's yearbooks. And there was some notion about saving my life or preserving it. I was also arguing with him about not telling me about his drug use. I found out he was doing K and cocaine (in the dream), when he'd said (in the dream, and in reality) that he'd never touch the stuff.
Then, I'm with my mother and him in a bathroom. He was going to the bathroom, but we didn't mind-so, I guess he was doing something "embarrassing" and didn't seem to mind that we saw him-when he suddenly stops breathing and his eyes are closed. My mother is asking me why John had to switch all the stuff in the bathroom around and I'm trying to justify that I don't get it, but that he thinks it looks better that way. I notice John has stopped breathing and start to panic. I pick him up, like he's made of air or is an inflatable toy, and lay him on the ground. I perform CPR the wrong way, and I know it, but I still know it's going to work. I revive him. It's miraculous. He gets up and doesn't thank me. In fact, he's upset with me. He was supposed to save me, he claims; he was supposed to do something for me that day. He doesn't want to talk about his health or drug usage or even that I revived him. I keep telling him, "I saved your life! Just thank me or acknowledge it! That's all I want."
I woke up frustrated, yet still missing John from my dream. I think John is my addiction. He can make me love life or hate it; I'm hooked on him, even though it causes me so much misery; I sacrifice everything for just a few hours of pleasure with him; I know he's toxic for me, but I can't seem to get away. I need therapy, I think. I wish I could afford it. Hopefully they'll hire me permanently at T.A. Sciences, and then I'll be able to afford it. Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can just stay away from him.
I guess the first line of reasoning I can take is seeing whether or not he'd even contact me to try and work things out. At this point, I'd contact him. He's the one who's done something. He always "takes the high road" and just says "I don't agree with you, but I don't want to hurt you anymore. I will always love you" yaddayaddayadda. It's a cop out. Maybe if that first step is never made, I don't even need to debate the rest. That ending from him, though, just makes me want to tell him that we can figure out a way for him not to hurt me, or that I can stop being so sensitive, because I'm the problem. Though, as Sari said, he's an idiot for not knowing how to hurt someone, especially me, who's generally a very happy person (in life of course-this journal has misery written all over it).
Anyhow-keeping busy as much as I can. I'll be at work and then hanging out with Angelica later and then home and movies until sleepy time. This weekend, I'm going to a gallery exhibit that Leslie's friend is putting on. Unless I go to Montauk with my roommates and some people. If I don't go to Montauk, I can go to this full day of Halloween cartoons from when we were kids and just watch cartoons for 24 hours and eat cereal. I want to go!!!
Then, I'm with my mother and him in a bathroom. He was going to the bathroom, but we didn't mind-so, I guess he was doing something "embarrassing" and didn't seem to mind that we saw him-when he suddenly stops breathing and his eyes are closed. My mother is asking me why John had to switch all the stuff in the bathroom around and I'm trying to justify that I don't get it, but that he thinks it looks better that way. I notice John has stopped breathing and start to panic. I pick him up, like he's made of air or is an inflatable toy, and lay him on the ground. I perform CPR the wrong way, and I know it, but I still know it's going to work. I revive him. It's miraculous. He gets up and doesn't thank me. In fact, he's upset with me. He was supposed to save me, he claims; he was supposed to do something for me that day. He doesn't want to talk about his health or drug usage or even that I revived him. I keep telling him, "I saved your life! Just thank me or acknowledge it! That's all I want."
I woke up frustrated, yet still missing John from my dream. I think John is my addiction. He can make me love life or hate it; I'm hooked on him, even though it causes me so much misery; I sacrifice everything for just a few hours of pleasure with him; I know he's toxic for me, but I can't seem to get away. I need therapy, I think. I wish I could afford it. Hopefully they'll hire me permanently at T.A. Sciences, and then I'll be able to afford it. Meanwhile, I'm hoping I can just stay away from him.
I guess the first line of reasoning I can take is seeing whether or not he'd even contact me to try and work things out. At this point, I'd contact him. He's the one who's done something. He always "takes the high road" and just says "I don't agree with you, but I don't want to hurt you anymore. I will always love you" yaddayaddayadda. It's a cop out. Maybe if that first step is never made, I don't even need to debate the rest. That ending from him, though, just makes me want to tell him that we can figure out a way for him not to hurt me, or that I can stop being so sensitive, because I'm the problem. Though, as Sari said, he's an idiot for not knowing how to hurt someone, especially me, who's generally a very happy person (in life of course-this journal has misery written all over it).
Anyhow-keeping busy as much as I can. I'll be at work and then hanging out with Angelica later and then home and movies until sleepy time. This weekend, I'm going to a gallery exhibit that Leslie's friend is putting on. Unless I go to Montauk with my roommates and some people. If I don't go to Montauk, I can go to this full day of Halloween cartoons from when we were kids and just watch cartoons for 24 hours and eat cereal. I want to go!!!