Category Archives: Dreams

Thanks, Brain

Things were going well. We’d been exchanging messages back and forth for nearly two weeks. He was cute and funny. He asked to meet me just as I was about to do the same. I asked for his phone number so we could text and not rely on the sometimes-glitchy dating system. He sent me his phone number and his Twitter handle.

Which seemed oddly familiar. It was just a couple of letters off from one of his friend’s handles. But that can happen when you’re talking to a guy who is into video games; many people share an interest in the same gaming characters. But then I checked the description.

“HAHAHA! F*CKED!”

I sent a message to a different friend of his telling him that this was crossing the line. He told me that he missed me. I responded in kind and he came into the room and kissed me.

Seriously, what is WRONG with my brain? It’s not enough that I struggle during the day with this, I have to dream about it, too? Dream about things that my conscious self knows will never happen, good or bad? I know I’m still angry about the “friend” that hacked my blog, but it’s one heck of a stretch to think that another “friend” would create a fake profile on a dating site and trick me. It’s another stretch to think that he misses me, would just randomly show up and all would be well again.

I have no reason to think that his feelings about all of this – and about me – have changed. And I can’t allow myself to think that the apology I sent him would change anything. At least not in my waking state.

But it’s there, nonetheless, waiting for me to let down my guard and finally stop resisting the sleep I need.

My self threw the cupcake

I had a dream. No, I had a nightmare. I don’t know what it was – it wasn’t happy and it wasn’t scary. It was… the truth.

We were at a party at church. I wasn’t feeling right inside. I was likely on the downward slope into one of my blue days. None of the activities, people or food choices were making me feel any better. And you were having a good time and I couldn’t get your attention to let you know how I was feeling. I picked up a giant Costco-sized cupcake and tried to eat it. But after a few nibbles I did not want any more. For some reason that I did not understand then (and still cannot understand now) I threw the cupcake frosting-side down into the corner of the kitchen floor. I wandered around for a little bit and finally plopped myself in a field behind the main building. I heard the caterer exclaim in disgust when she found the smashed and partially eaten cupcake. After a few minutes you found me and wanted to know if I had smashed the cupcake. I felt angry that you would immediately come to the conclusion that I had done this. I stared off into the distance – never making eye contact with you – and slowly shook my head. I knew it was a lie, but I could not admit that I had done something so impulsive and destructive. I did not want you to see that side of me. I wandered around a little more and found myself in the room where they were stashing all of the raffle prizes. You once again found me and shoved the smashed and picked-at cupcake into my line of sight and asked me if I had done that. You were angry. You were so certain I had done it, but at the same time you didn’t want to believe it and you did not really want me to acknowledge it.

The feeling I came away with from this dream was not triumph in the success of deception. It was a kind of sadness. It was defeat. I felt defeated because there was no way to explain to you that I had not thrown the cupcake. That I had thrown the cupcake. I had made a decision to throw the cupcake and hide, yet I was not responsible for my actions. I did not have control over them. I felt like I was watching my self from the outside. I was yelling at my self to stop it, but I would not listen. And I came away frustrated because I knew no matter how hard I could try to explain it to you, you would never understand.

I did not throw the cupcake. My blue self threw it. I could see my self making the decision to throw it. I tried to stop my self, but my self was out of control and untamable. I watched someone that looked, sounded, and acted like me destroy something innocent. But no one ever sees that self. They only see me. And I’m the one that has to take the fall for it all. Because it always sounds like a cop-out to say, “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.”

Only in my dreams

And that right there is why I don’t let myself get hyped up about men.

I had a dream last night. A dream induced by a several-nights-in-a-row Twilight reading session. (Shush, you. I like the story line) A dream where I was with two vampires vying for my attention. In my dream, I was a vampire and I knew who my “Jacob” was (though now I can’t recall), but all through my dream I couldn’t tell who my “Edward” was. Not that it mattered. But it did leave me very frustrated when I woke up. My dreams have always been very vivid and often the emotions I feel in them carry on for a few hours into reality.

As I am a subscriber to the notion that your dreams are your mind’s way of solving problems you can’t do consciously, I’m not at all surprised I had this dream. Most girls would love to be gorgeous, strong, unbreakable and have the attention of two men. Hell, I’d settle for the attention of one!!

More often than not, I wake up during my dreams and they are burned into my brain for a day or so, allowing me to ponder the reason behind them. But sometimes I wish I could leave my dreams in my bed.

See, while this dream was enjoyable at the time, I’m now depressed. Because, seeing as I don’t have the attention of any man, I’m left with the conclusion that my brain is trying to tell me something. Something I’ve been unwilling to recognize or even admit to myself or others.

I’m lonely.

I haven’t had a live-in companion for 7 years. I haven’t had a date in 2 years. I haven’t had a hit on my dating profiles in 1 year. There’s not one person in my life that I can even imagine calling my own.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There is one. But I’d be willing to bet my iPhone that he has never thought about me that way. Or dreamed about me. And he has probably never seen this blog, so it’s likely he won’t ever know/guess/wonder that I’m writing about him. As I think about it now, it’s possible that my “Edward” last night was this man.

Which depresses me even more.

Sorry, Cinderella. I just don’t believe that “a dream is a wish your heart makes.” I can’t believe it. Because when it comes down to it, a wish isn’t something tangible. Wishing doesn’t make things happen.

It just makes me realize that if I’m wishing for something, it’s because I know deep down there’s nothing I can do to turn my dream into a reality.

I wish my dreams would stay in my dreams.