Sweet Nightmares, baby


A little better, a little bit at a time. I got up when I easily could have gone back to sleep, but there would have been no point in doing so. Kind of happy about it.

I had some really intense dreams, that were very on topic with actual concerns in my life. Zero abstraction. I wonder what this means.

I have several actual concerns in my life, and plans to resolve them, and more problems occurring. Normal life.

Let’s start with dreams, although I’m not sure where to begin. Maybe I’ll come up with a new way to handle out of order recollections.

I was in New York with My boyfriend. Apparently, the reality of this plague is imprinting on my actual world view, and is in permanent storage in my brain. It’s becoming a whole perspective. Anyway, we were in New York and the plague was going on.

However, stores were open. There were people in the street, wearing masks. Standing way too close to each other. Totally being complete idiots who do not understand science or how germs are spread generally. Totally being like my boyfriend, all the fucking New Yorkers.

I’m reminded of Memoirs of a Geisha, and how the lead character was helped and harbored by an admirer that she had despised all the time that she knew him. I feel like I’m in a similar situation. I want to reread that book, but somehow I still don’t have time.

Anyway, back to dreams

My boyfriend and I went into a diner, I believe it was a diner but it may actually have been a post office, or maybe I’m just thinking that because it makes more sense. Maybe it was a deli counter.

People were way too close, almost just like normal. Leaning over the counter, shuffled in, some not even wearing gloves.

I was freaking out. My boyfriend was, as always, acting like everything was fine.

I don’t really have a handle on the narrative anymore. I remember a lot of gloves, the color of blue surgical masks and the muted color of skin through latex combined with dove gray linoleum tile and the lemon chiffon halogen light shining splintered off everything, the glass, people’s teeth, the rims of My glasses (I capitalized my pronoun – time to go back to work) and my boyfriend’s blue eyes, the color of which are exactly a mix between that cheerful yet clinical baby blue of the mask and the serious slate gray of institutional tile. Of ground up, wet newspaper.

I stepped back from the counter, pushed everyone away, desperate and panicking. Gasping, then crying, then screaming. Trying to clear a 6 foot space around myself, everyone looking in at me as though I was crazy. I huddled into Myself (again, capital, I think the message is clear) sobbing, shaking and feeling that friction between every cell in my body as though I were going to rip myself apart on a cellular level.

I remember the distinct feeling that there was nothing I could do, that we were all going to die, and there was nothing I could do to save any of these people from their idiocy, and that they were going to kill me, and did not care enough to know a goddamn thing about it.

I think I woke up and did some stuff. Just now, I scrolled back to add a title on this and started to reread, and stopped myself

Alive With the Glory of Love – Say Anything Black Swan – Thom Yorke Bloodbuzz Ohio – The National Coco Blood – Celeste Common People Pulp Criminal – Fiona Apple Dashboard – Modest Mouse Dearly Departed – Shakey Graves Dont Look Back In Anger Oasis Dont Wanna See You Braxton Cook Every You Every Me – Placebo Face Down – Red Jumpsuit Apparatus Feel Good Drag – Anberlin Feel the Pain – Dinosaur Jr Futures – Jimmy Eat World Green Light – Lorde Hands on the Bible – Local H Hear Me Now – Framing Henley How Soon is Now – The Smiths Lazy Eye – Silversun Pickups Little Lion Man – Tonight Alive Los Ageless – St. Vincent Love Spreads – The Stone Roses Map of the Problematique – Muse Maps – Yeah Yeah Yeahs Muscle Museum – Muse No Light No Light Florence + The Machine Ohio is for Lovers – Hawthorne Heights On hold – The xx Paranoid Android – Radiohead Perfect Situation – Weezer Pretty Pimpin – Kurt Vile Pure Morning Placebo So Good at Being in Trouble – Unknown Mortal Orchestra Staring at the Sun – TV on the Radio The Diary of Jane – Breaking Benjamin The Killing Moon – Echo & The Bunnymen The View From The Afternoon Arctic Mokeys Thinking of You – Lord Echo This Mess Were In – PJ Harvey & Thom Yorke Under the Milky Way – The Church What Kind of Man – Florence + The Machine Where is My Mind – The Pixies Wolf Like Me – TV on the Radio Yellow – Coldplay

I just wanted to experiment and see what other random block formats were in the menu. New WordPress sucks such balls compared to the original MU. Wtf.

I keep getting up. And looking at this tag cloud. Music is great, but should I write in silence? I don’t know, it sounds like it might be more productive but not as much fun.

My father for some strange reason is wasting his time and becoming rapidly, noticeably, substantially, intellectually devalued by a woman who believes that nightmares precede Corona virus symptoms. She might not be wrong.

My next nightmare was about My Father (I usually capitalize Father, but the pronouns are getting all fucked up today.)

I believe I left New York, and went to visit my family in a place, that I now recognize as the nursing home where my Father’s oldest uncle died in the fall. The family that was there was the family that had been there then as well. There were some key people missing that I wish had been there, that I still wish were there now.

I am already crying and I haven’t even gotten a chance to explain why.

I have decided.

The next time I get pregnant, and yes the next time.

I will keep it.

I will regret this decision and I know it but that is life.

My Father was there, around the table, that was in the reception area, or at least a large wooden table that was stained exactly the same color, in a room with big bonded leather (if you can’t tell the difference between bonded leather and actual leather, get yourself a sex doll because you can’t tell the difference between plastic and real skin anyway) chairs in the same array of autumn browns, with some cushions more yellow and some more red. I remember him smiling in a way that I have not seen since.

My family is also a wonderful array of browns, much more vibrant than that bullshit cheap furniture that was clearly made to look luxurious for the white trash people on that end of nowhere who wouldn’t know real quality if it killed their parents when they were young like in some b-grade kung fu film.

I was embarrassed and disappointed that My amazing, accomplished Uncle had to die there.

I wish I could be half as good as anyone else that I’m related to. I’m very disappointed in myself. Deeply.

I am the blackest sheep.

I’m crying, and I think I’ve uncovered my nerves for the day, I should probably get productive and myelenate ( <=== it is mortally embarrassing that I have to look up the spelling of this word). But I want to get to the end of the dream.

I have a phone call I have to make.

Thinking it over, I think I have done enough for the day. I’m the only one here, and I know what this is. The rest will come when it comes.

I just want to let everyone know that I tried, and I didn’t mean to let them down.

Everyone but my ex, who can go fuck himself.

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