Enough!

Christ, yet another "ex" dream this morning, and still the same crap. It just parallels the bad side of what was our relationship. Nothing good about the relationship is really remembered, which makes me wonder... Was any of it ever really good? If there was no communication, no fidelity, and a lack of honesty, (on his part) what was real and good about the relationship?

Again Eric invades my dreams. It starts with me running around town, shopping for something special, for me... for us... for something happening soon... because, damn it, that's just the way I am -- true to character. I go out of my way to plan and make something nice and pleasing. The town I walk around in is never someplace I recognize. It's always tall buidlings, and it's either always gray and threatening to rain or just feels like the beginning of dusk. It's more Manhattan than Boston or Philadelphia or Washington DC or San Francisco... or some of the other 20+ cities I have visited. But still, it's not New York. And one building had three main points that either take you to (I don't know how) or represented parts of Alaska, but one was the northernmost part of the state, one was the southernern most, and who knows about the third. And yeah, you'd get off the elevator and be there, but that's another whole side thing. In the dream I never go to the destinations. This is beginning to sound, oddly, like text book Freudian. (More about my dislike of Freudian therapists later.)

Anyway, I'm riding up and down the elevator... okay, this symbolic stuff is beginning to crack me up... I'm running from here to there, all excited, and Eric calls me up on my cell phone. We chat for a bit and it's apparent we've had another miscommunication about our plans. This was pretty typical in our relationship, too, so the fact it occurs in our dreams is no shocker. We would agree what train and what stop I would take, to meet up so I could get a ride home, and either I was so into my work that I misunderstood, or the info would fly out of his distracted brain and he'd just remember what he wanted to. So I'd be standing at the South San Francisco station at 7:30 pm, in the dark and rain, and he'd be so busy on the computer flirting with Amanda or Carol, or talking with them on phone instead of answering my bazillion "Where are you?" calls, that I'd wind up taking a cab home.

Sorry, derailed there from that dream again... so he blurts out that I can meet him for dinner at this place, with his new girlfriend. WTF? New girlfriend? Before he's even told the old one he's been living with that they should break up? Okay, talking about this makes me see the parallels. I stand there on the street, trying to be brave and nonchalant. Trying to keep that snarky, hurt tone in my voice and trash him for how he's been disrespectful to me and a coward, instead of doing the girly cry thing. And then... I fail. I start to cry and within seconds I'm in full-blown, rib cage-wracking sobs and people are walking past me on the street. Way past my crouched figure near the curb crying my heart out.

Then, like an ass, I've agreed to meet them for dinner! WTF again? Am I really that much of a masochist? Now, instead of the dream being just funny and ludicrous, it's just... stupid and annoying. I go to the restaurant and they aren't there... they're someplace else. I did NOT misunderstand where to meet. But, I do see some interesting little soup or appetizers bowls made out of lemon-grassed rice... sort of free form on the outside with a cup bottom-shaped indent in the center for soup or snack. I make a lucid mental note that this would look fascinating at my next dinner party, in my non-dream world. Always the designer, the artist, the hostess, the chef!

It's now night and I'm going to their new apartment. Why am I doing this? Ironically, though I think the dream is in color, I and everyone else are dressed in black. At least I have a sexy black lace dress on and I look hot in it. Hey... it's my dream, remember? I enter the place, but I don't see them, then I exit for a moment and come back. Someone is looking in the window... the apartment is a storefront. Those of you with dream symbology and analyzing skills must be having a field day! I'm glad I can provide entertainment! I snap at the person looking in and ask them if it's their place or are they just being nosy, and they say no and leave.

At this point, I wake myself up because, I'm just done with this dream. I wake up and get out of my nice, warm bed grudgingly, because to lie there and tempt sleep more, and continue the dream, is not an option I want to take. So I do the one thing I know will make me happy instead... I go downstairs and pad in my bare feet along the warm, worn maple floors, over to the living room loft windows and watch the sunrise. Even though the blanket of clouds is low, it rises high enough above the horizon line to allow for a beautiful play of colors as the sun begins its climb.

And... Chris is there, already awake, finding me as the tendrils of the dream begin to recede.