Thursday, October 13, 2005

stupid dreams

"always seems like your leaving/ when i need you here/ just a little longer..." ~Violent Femmes

i have a recurring dream/nightmare that people keep disappearing. this isnt something that should be surprising or uncharacteristic, i probably have lots of fears roiling beneath the surface of my conscious thoughts. but it seems bizarre that in every one of these dreams i get so frantic and sweaty and just, distraught, when im searching everywhere for someone and i cant find them.

i wake up, or come to, and the feeling just goes away. for the most part. just like that. im not anxious or keen to jump out of bed and search the closet or even the bathtub. thankfully, something i do when im conscious takes the edge off the whole thing. its like when im dreaming, my brain turns off everything else and goes to visit the one stark raving mad part of me that imagines im going to die alone with 30 cats and a really bad mumu draped over my corpulent remains. ugh. its like visiting a version of yourself that feels concentrated, industrial strength despair all the time.

when i wake up it turns into a dull ache. its still there, but i guess its muted by all the other important brain things that happen when youre conscious. i know its probably just residual emotions from all the crap that happened this year. roommate killing himself, him being real crazy from the aids and stealing lots of money from me, boyfriend being a douche and ducking out on me when i needed him the most, friends leaving town and scattering all over the country, me going nutter and moving away as fast as possible to new york, which is not really a fuzzy understanding locale. much. and then of course the whole terrifying fracturing of the back incident. yeah. that sucked.

and there are the other dreams. some of them are kind of scary, but they dont bother me nearly as much as the desperate ones where everyone is leaving me and the harder i search, the more i can sense that everyones moving farther and faster away and i cant catch them, i cant make them slow down, and that maybe theyre doing this on purpose. which is even worse.

the one with the roommate in it is kind of creepy. a lot creepy actually. hes always just sitting somewhere in our old house staring at me. but his hair is longer and more disheveled, hes thinner (no small feat when youre in the final stages of aids), and he always wants something from me. and hes, you know, dead. like he was sitting on the couch the other day just watching me go about my business. i think i was cleaning something. i dont remember talking to him, but i got the impression that he wanted my life. aarrgh. not that he wanted my life, but that he wanted to be alive and have friends and a job, a future. which isnt really much of a stretch, cause thats always how i felt around him when he was alive. and he did look pretty haggard right before he died. his hair was longer, his glasses were crooked like his head had lost weight or something, and he did always look at me like he wished we could switch places. sometimes i felt like i was showing off, or being cruel just because i had stuff to do and places to be and i knew i was probably going to be alive for a while.

and maybe its just the english major in me, but obviously i must now tie these two dreams together in the final paragraphs of my entry, replete with quotes and a really punchy closing sentence. damn the years of conditioning myself to write like a fucking 18 year-old freshman goon, expounding on the brilliance of "grendel" as a response to "beowulf" and how "eaters of the dead" is tripe. i was a tool. "eaters of the dead" is a fucking entertaining book. and i really did write an awful paper on this subject. goon.

so. right. basically, my roommate died alone. literally, physically, existentially, he was all alone when he pulled the trigger. and that sucks. i dont think any human being should have to die like that. its fucking awful however which way you look at it. there are a lot of reasons why i could hate this man. he wasnt a very good person. he did lots of stupid things, and made lots of peoples lives difficult. he made my life miserable. and i am angry at him. or furious. whatever. but eventually when im thinking about something crappy he did, the part of me thats pissed gets all soggy and turns into pity. i feel so badly that this moron lived and died like he did, sad and alone.

all this stuff has had the effect of turning me into a clingy bastard. i think. its hard to have perspective yet, because all this just happened. but i think i have the dreams about people leaving because im afraid of becoming like him, the roommate. and im always planning and constructing ways to make people not want to go away. or ive given up and cut some people completely out of my life because i dont want to feel that stabby, being ditched sensation. i guess most people i know just dont get it. they dont get why im...morose, i guess is the word im looking for.

this all started about dreams, and now its a tangential piece of crap. but i expect thats how its going to be for awhile. when youre sick it takes you a few belts at the toilet to retch up whats really bothering your stomach. i guess brains are the same way. and random. ive never been able to select which shot of bourbon i would rather have exit my system first.

meh.

"i just want someone to stay with me/ and always be there when you wake..."
~blind melon

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