whiskey on my mind
once, when i was about 11 i had this dream that my parents abandoned me. (in the dream) my mom and i were in the car driving to Nordstrom’s to buy me shoes but instead of going to the mall she took me to the train station. when we got there i asked what we were doing and she told me i was going away. i asked her why and she said that they (she and my dad and my brother) didn’t want me anymore. i told her i didn’t have any of my stuff with me, she responded by pulling this red bag i used to have (which coincidentally was the same bag i used the two times i tried to run away as a small child) out of the trunk and told me she had packed for me. by this point i was crying. i asked her if brown bear (my favorite stuffed animal with whom i still sleep) was in the bag and she told me that since brown bear had been given to her before i was born that he was her’s and i couldn’t keep him. this caused me to cry even more. we sat there in silence waiting for the train, me crying and my mother growing more and more impatient every minute. finally she got tired of waiting and told me she was leaving. she said mine was the next southbound train and started walking to the car. i screamed for her not to go but she didn’t listen. thankfully the dream ended just then. when i woke up i was sobbing. i ran out of my room to the living room where my mom was and told her about it.
she thought it was funny that i was so upset.
that was the most realistic dream i had ever or have ever since had. sometimes i forget that it was a dream and get really angry with my mom for doing that to me. even now writing about it makes me really upset. it’s basically one of the strongest memories i have and it didn’t even happen. sometimes when i think about this, it makes me really angry. the fact that my brain is so strong/fucked up that it makes made-up things so important to me. sometimes i think it’s really cool that my memories are so strong and vital to me and sometimes i think i need to learn to let some shit go... especially the shit that didn’t even happen.
speaking of memory... i’ve got this new plan called “stop erasing your fucking memories with alcohol”. i was sitting around last night trying to remember what i did on friday and i had no idea. then i saw my friend who i was with all weekend and i asked him what he did this weekend. i should have known what he did because i did it too. it’s like my mind is a big bowl filled with work, and sleep, and drinking, and my friends; and all of my memories are starting to break down and dissolve because they’re soaked in booze. i’m not necessarily saying i need to start drinking less. i just think i need to start drinking smarter. like instead of waking up at 2pm on a tuesday and wondering what in god’s name possessed me to drink half a bottle of maker’s mark and stay up til 5am talking bullshit with my friends (it was a great night though, one of the best); i should maybe only have a couple glasses of maker’s and then go to sleep because i want to and not because the wine and whiskey and the half a pack of cigarettes are making it impossible for me to keep my eyes open any longer. now maybe, i just have a bad memory and it doesn’t have anything to do with the approximate gallon of whiskey i drink a week, but modern science tells me otherwise.
this is cause for alarm.
she thought it was funny that i was so upset.
that was the most realistic dream i had ever or have ever since had. sometimes i forget that it was a dream and get really angry with my mom for doing that to me. even now writing about it makes me really upset. it’s basically one of the strongest memories i have and it didn’t even happen. sometimes when i think about this, it makes me really angry. the fact that my brain is so strong/fucked up that it makes made-up things so important to me. sometimes i think it’s really cool that my memories are so strong and vital to me and sometimes i think i need to learn to let some shit go... especially the shit that didn’t even happen.
speaking of memory... i’ve got this new plan called “stop erasing your fucking memories with alcohol”. i was sitting around last night trying to remember what i did on friday and i had no idea. then i saw my friend who i was with all weekend and i asked him what he did this weekend. i should have known what he did because i did it too. it’s like my mind is a big bowl filled with work, and sleep, and drinking, and my friends; and all of my memories are starting to break down and dissolve because they’re soaked in booze. i’m not necessarily saying i need to start drinking less. i just think i need to start drinking smarter. like instead of waking up at 2pm on a tuesday and wondering what in god’s name possessed me to drink half a bottle of maker’s mark and stay up til 5am talking bullshit with my friends (it was a great night though, one of the best); i should maybe only have a couple glasses of maker’s and then go to sleep because i want to and not because the wine and whiskey and the half a pack of cigarettes are making it impossible for me to keep my eyes open any longer. now maybe, i just have a bad memory and it doesn’t have anything to do with the approximate gallon of whiskey i drink a week, but modern science tells me otherwise.
this is cause for alarm.