New nightmares
I hate nightmares. In particular I hate the ease with which they creep inscrutible assertations into my waking hours. Plus the bellyache and general exhaustion that they cause. It’s so distracting when I’m trying to get beyond general monday-ness.
Last night I was carjacked. Stunned, vulnerable, and terrified. Suddenly small in front of my assailant, I couldn’t do or say anything. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t kick. I couldn’t punch or fight or resist. I was small and completely frozen by the circumstance.
He unzipped his pants, ready to take a piss in my car. At which point I stared horrified and terribly ashamed and continued to do nothing.
Cut scene.
I’m sitting in the airport with B. We’re talking which is something we haven’t done in a while.
Our flight is delayed and we argue. I don’t know where we’re going, but it wasn’t planned that we’d be heading there together.
We argue ourselves into irritation and annoyance.
Then we argue ourselves into bed with each other.
“You’re wound up so much you can’t relax at all”
“You are so arrogant because you act like you’re a free spirit but you’re terrified of having anyone be close to you.”
“You think you know it all because your life is so fucking meticulous and clean. Precise.”
“We’re more alike than you like to admit and it eats you up inside that we’re both stuck in this pattern of push and pull.”
“Kiss me, you asshole.”
Cut scene
I’m driving back home from school. Elementary school. For whatever reason, I’m driving back through my neighborhood. I think I’ve just finished giving a lecture on overcoming obstacles and resiliency to change. This is… ironic. I know.
On the way back to my father’s house, I see a boy I once knew walking down the block. While an adult,he’s wearing an outfit that I remembered seeing him in as a child. Only mansize tailored. He’s got a backpack and a hat on — slightly askew.
And he’s crying.
I try to stop to talk to him, but when he sees me pull over he runs and hops a fence and is gone.
Cut scene.
I’m in my bed and it’s 4 am and I’m finding that for the next hour, hour and a half, it is the quietest darkness in the city. I turn over and I’m held by someone. But he’s cold, and detached. And while he’s holding me near, I can tell that he’s very very far away. I start crying, and he pulls me close. I can’t help myself but keep on crying. I know. I know.
Cut scene.
I wake up and toss and turn in my bed until morning when my alarm rings and light creeps confidently through my window.
I recite back my dream sequences just to be sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
I’m sure I have and I think it’s probably better that way.
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