And I guess that’s why I keep trying to scrape things, pieces of myself, and my life, and what I used to have, together off the floor, because I miss that. I miss her so much. I miss having a life that might somehow mean something.
Actually, there was nothing important about the dream, except that I dreamed about my brother, in a house I couldn’t recognize in my sleep, except that now I recognize it as our old house, where we grew up.
The rug was a lighter, beige color, and new. The bathroom fixtures had been replaced with something generic and white. I wonder if that is how it looks now. I hope whoever bought it falls down the stairs and dies.
My ex texted today. He is stuck in California. I worry about his parents, and I was planning to call them. My boyfriend doesn’t understand why, but it just shows that underneath all of the flash and show, he doesn’t really know what it’s like to truly care about people. He would never call his ex, and I can see now that that’s what this dream was about (or at least what I’ve made it about now). I’m enjoying this exercise immensely, but I wish I didn’t dream about other people so much. I actually hate Coldplay, but someone we, My ex and I, both loved loved them so much. I wish I had more dreams about her. I miss her so much. I have to realize that there are several reasons that we, My ex and I, can never get back the life that we had together, at least not any of the good parts.