Doing a little bit better, but haunted by strange dreams
Well, it's Monday morning and, after three nights of sleeping in my clothes, I've finally managed to motivate enough to change my shirt and eat some breakfast, so I suppose that's a good sign. I still get very upset, though ... it's such the morning routine to head into "the rat room" and give Molly her salad ... now I'm just struck by the empty space every time I look through the doorway.
I find I'm also troubled this morning by last night's dreams. I forget how it began (as I usually do), but I had a dream that Bob showed up here at my apartment. He had some bags and he was upset - somebody had died. He was telling me about the guy who died, and I knew that I knew him, but I also knew that I didn't know him well - I suspected he was one of those people that we spent some time doing drugs with, but that I'd never been especially close to or paid all that much attention to. He was telling me about some sort of plans later in the day - a memorial? - and I remember thinking that he'd brought all those bags because he was taking something to whatever was going on in the afternoon. Well, Bob was really upset and I was trying to be compassionate and get more info (still trying to figure out just who had died and all that) ... then things get a little fuzzy. Bob disappeared into the bathroom for a long time (to get high?). I went to check on him and he said he'd made some kind of mess or broken something, but that he was taking care of it. Lots of other people were showing up at my apartment, and I think a lot of them knew about the dead guy too, though I think they were more like me (meaning they knew who he was but hadn't been close to him). I was greeting some people in my kitchen and I saw that Bob's way of "dealing with" whatever mess he made was to throw a whole bunch of stuff into garbage bags and leave them in the kitchen - and, as I started cleaning up that mess, I saw that some of the things he had thrown out were things that mattered to me. Around the same time I noticed a bunch of musical instruments on my kitchen shelves - Bob's instruments (mind you, in real life, Bob plays nothing). And I lost it. I was in the kitchen, Bob was in my bedroom, and I started SCREAMING for him, screaming at him ... "What's with your stuff being here, Bob? You're not thinking that you're moving in, Bob? You know you can't stay here, right Bob...?" And I think by the time I got to the bedroom the syringes were out, and I remember trying to hide the syringes from some of the other people who had stopped by, but one fell out from behind my back or wherever I was hiding it ...
This vaguely ties in to my weekend from Hell because Bob called Saturday morning, but I was already too upset from Molly's death to deal with him, so I ignored the call. His message said something about needing my help (big surprise) and that I should call him back immediately ('nother big surprise), but I never did call him back (which really is kind of surprising) ... and I do feel kind of bad about not returning the call, especially considering that Bob was the person who gave me Molly, although, I think in the grand scheme of things, he barely remembers that fact ...
I let H.W.S.R.N. hear Bob's message on Saturday and he didn't think much of it, though I suspect lurpy would have dubbed it "Vintage Bob," as I did. Heck - I remember over the summer Monica being very upset that I answered the phone when he called ... wish she was still in town ... I could go for some positive reinforcement right about now...
I find I'm also troubled this morning by last night's dreams. I forget how it began (as I usually do), but I had a dream that Bob showed up here at my apartment. He had some bags and he was upset - somebody had died. He was telling me about the guy who died, and I knew that I knew him, but I also knew that I didn't know him well - I suspected he was one of those people that we spent some time doing drugs with, but that I'd never been especially close to or paid all that much attention to. He was telling me about some sort of plans later in the day - a memorial? - and I remember thinking that he'd brought all those bags because he was taking something to whatever was going on in the afternoon. Well, Bob was really upset and I was trying to be compassionate and get more info (still trying to figure out just who had died and all that) ... then things get a little fuzzy. Bob disappeared into the bathroom for a long time (to get high?). I went to check on him and he said he'd made some kind of mess or broken something, but that he was taking care of it. Lots of other people were showing up at my apartment, and I think a lot of them knew about the dead guy too, though I think they were more like me (meaning they knew who he was but hadn't been close to him). I was greeting some people in my kitchen and I saw that Bob's way of "dealing with" whatever mess he made was to throw a whole bunch of stuff into garbage bags and leave them in the kitchen - and, as I started cleaning up that mess, I saw that some of the things he had thrown out were things that mattered to me. Around the same time I noticed a bunch of musical instruments on my kitchen shelves - Bob's instruments (mind you, in real life, Bob plays nothing). And I lost it. I was in the kitchen, Bob was in my bedroom, and I started SCREAMING for him, screaming at him ... "What's with your stuff being here, Bob? You're not thinking that you're moving in, Bob? You know you can't stay here, right Bob...?" And I think by the time I got to the bedroom the syringes were out, and I remember trying to hide the syringes from some of the other people who had stopped by, but one fell out from behind my back or wherever I was hiding it ...
This vaguely ties in to my weekend from Hell because Bob called Saturday morning, but I was already too upset from Molly's death to deal with him, so I ignored the call. His message said something about needing my help (big surprise) and that I should call him back immediately ('nother big surprise), but I never did call him back (which really is kind of surprising) ... and I do feel kind of bad about not returning the call, especially considering that Bob was the person who gave me Molly, although, I think in the grand scheme of things, he barely remembers that fact ...
I let H.W.S.R.N. hear Bob's message on Saturday and he didn't think much of it, though I suspect lurpy would have dubbed it "Vintage Bob," as I did. Heck - I remember over the summer Monica being very upset that I answered the phone when he called ... wish she was still in town ... I could go for some positive reinforcement right about now...