Spring 2007
When I forget to take my antidepressants for a few days, I start having longer, albeit bad, dreams again. In today's example, I dreamt I got so drunk at a party of my own that I forgot everything that had happened, and the next day I went around asking the guests what the hell went on. Quite impressively, I'd blacked out within 40 minutes of drinking two simple cocktails. I'd made it through the entire party though, including cake with candles, but managed to sexually harass an aging great aunt and almost fuck some guy before deciding not to. Oh, and some other guy died at the beginning of the party from electrocution when he was given a wet glass of booze, and changed something on the stereo. The paramedics had turned up, taken him away and the party continued.
I should say here that none of the above has ever happened in my life. I've never blacked out from alcohol, sexually harassed or fucked anyone, and I've certainly never been at a party where some bloke died. It's even been decades since I've had a birthday 'party'. My subconscious is seriously messed up.
Darren's at the pub tonight so it's just me and Lucy for dinner. I'm making pancakes, with whipped butter and maple syrup. Tomorrow will be a big meat day so I don't feel like any heavy cooking. I've invited my parents over for lunch for Father's Day, which my father, for the first time in living memory, seems quite happy about - "How can I say no to that?" he apparently said when mum asked him. Usually Father's Day, like all holidays/birthdays/anniversaries is a bad time, as (consults psychological excuses) his guilt at being such a crappy father/husband/human being is magnified by being on show during special occasions rather than avoided as usual. So I'll feed him and give him money as a gift (which he likes) and if I can keep him from pissing off Darren it should be a helpful experience. I don't really expect (or want, actually) a better relationship with him as a result of these 'happy' occasions, I just want to stop him from saying I'm the same 'selfish bitch' that I've 'always been', by carefully creating positive interactions between us.
8.33pm and Lucy's off to bed, so no pancakes tonight. I'm not going to make the effort just for myself, and after having a cup of tea and glass of orange juice, and a junkie's load of medication (paracetamol (for the headache from the bad dream), multivitamin, iron tablet and Aropax (to stop the bad dreams and prevent the oncoming withdrawal - the long bad dreams are the first sign)) I think I'll go back to bed too. I'm cold and my brain feels full of lead. I've got a kitty in my lap (yay for kitties!) and she might come to bed with me. I always sleep better with cats on the bed.
Goodnight.