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Could not sleep last night. Between intensified pain, crying jags, loneliness and emails from a stalker it was impossible.
Finally knocked myself out with a sleeping pill at about 3:00 am and slept until noon when my daughter woke me up.
The pain is apparently normal for the 3rd or 4th week after this particular surgery. Especially one which involved far more than a standard procedure. Typical Miss R; not only screwy and scarred in heart and soul but internally and physically as well.
My last posts have been rather hopeful and amusing. Have done this on purpose, as I’m sure people become exasperated and bored with meandering diatribes describing my various neurotic foolish exploits and thoughts. Fuckitall I get sick of it.
So to you I say Neigh! Go away or I shall taunt you a second time.
Here’s a dark brooding dream sequence courtesy of my current unbalanced state of life.
First a little background on the
Probable Causes of These Dreams…
After 4 hours straight of uncontrollable weeping, a joyful by-product of depression and the womb-ectomy, I finally gave in and took an Ambien to sleep.
You know, for a gal who went years as an alcoholic and connoisseur of pharmaceuticals it seems funny that taking any medication is a fight now. Jesus.
1. I am stupid-lonely these days for a loving and close romantic relationship. Maybe it is because I have become smarter with age. Stop laughing right now. It’s a refusal to settle for the short-term happiness. Long term happiness is a far smarter and worthy pursuit. Went my whole life accepting whatever man showed interest in me. See ex-husband blogs for explicit details. Being the outcast/fat girl/brainiac through school tends to crush self-esteem. No matter how much fucking analysis and therapy you pay for. I want my money back and where’s that Happy Pill you promised?
2. Met two very nice men in the past 3 months. Due to my Type A over-achieving obsessions at work, Cate’s craziness, and now surgery and unemployment I have lost the interest of those two men. I’m so tired of being the nurturing one, the caring one, the care giver. It seems that people should be able to accomplish both; give love and security to another and feel some for themselves as well. This being an imperfect world I’m not holding my fucking breath.
3. An old ex’s current girlfriend has decided her life is not complete without stalking me. Oh joy. Messages from a freak who is convinced I’m involved with her boyfriend. Great. This crap started at midnight. Seems she found some really old emails from him and decided that, despite the dates on said correspondence (going back to MAY?!) her relationship is in jeopardy. To think I took that Glock into the shop for cleaning and re-calibration. Sheesh.
4. Have you seen the cool ad featuring an insomniac conversing with Abe Lincoln and a beaver eating bacon and eggs? Love that. Except for the creepy guy in the vintage diving suit with his back to the camera. That is disturbing. The point is that last night’s foray into REM sleep produced non sequiturs of equal strangeness.
Episode One: The Cake Thing
Went into a cake shop (wtf Is there such a thing?) and found that I could not afford the torte-looking chocolate cake, but could afford the small, lumpy white cake. I chose a lavender butter cream icing. I hear you thinking.. What’s so odd about that? In a dream at any rate. Well, I don’t even like cake. Blech. I will happily eat an entire bowl or can of icing –stop looking at me that way- but do not like cake.
Episode Two: Elevator Music for the Masses
The dream begins with me playing music I’ve been working on, for a few friends. Two of my friends said that they really liked the songs and believed that my dark wry lyrics juxtaposed with rock sensibilities and jazz chording would make perfect elevator music.
Reality check: am considering recording these in the next few months and am serious about my original compositions for the first time in almost 20 years.
Episode Three: Jew Know What I Mean?
I’ve noticed that the surf is so high that it’s passed the low wall separating the beach from the walkway in front of my home. The water is quickly coming in and beginning to slosh against the sliding glass door.
So there’s this guy at the beach who asks if I’d like to swim and hang out for the day. The surf is rough and the waves higher than I prefer for body surfing. Rather scary. I decline although we do walk along the water’s edge scouting a place which looks less dangerous.
Reality Intruding: I DO love body surfing, the rush, and healthy exhaustion. Not so much the occasional fuck-up which has resulted in my body being slammed into a rocky sandy ocean bottom after being lifted into the air and feeling that indescribable adrenaline push.
Back to the dream: Said guy is in town staying at a men’s boarding house for several months. He is there to help others become something…? This part is really fuzzy. I only remember that he is Jewish (huh? so fucking what) and I meet his mother.
Another Reality Slap: This has got to be a flashback from years ago. Yikes. I met Cate’s dad in Brooklyn. His mother was/is the anti-christ (he’ll agree with me) although the mother in the dream seemed nice enough. Amusingly, the aforementioned first husband would go to Brighton Beach with me every weekend while we dated. As soon as he had the ring on my finger that ended. He suddenly announced
“Rachael, Jews from Brooklyn do NOT go into the sun”. To which I retorted
“Well Jews from California do!” and thereafter rode my bike to Brighton Beach each weekend alone. Hell, Mrs. Stahl’s Knishes was on the way back too. Yum!
Back to the dream: His room is sparse although I only see it long enough to pick him up for a trip downtown. Soon he begins to ignore my phone calls, and avoid conversation with me. During this entire time a store has opened in town which bears a more than passing resemblance to my own Cabin Fever. In the dream my store is gone (as in real life) and it is killing me to see my idea taken by another. Yet no one gives a damn and others suggest I get a job there. I decline, am awash in pointless self-serving self-pity and the dream shifts…
Episode Four: Return of the Tahquitz
I’m back running a hotel. The location is a bizarre compilation of Idyllwild, the tiny mountain town where I lived for years, and Sparks. Huh?
My parents, the paternal pair, make a surprise dream visit. So do friends none of which bears resemblance to any actual acquaintances.
More cake is eaten and a pie was devoured in the night though no one will claim responsibility. An apple cherry pie with a crisp crust and crunchy bits on top. Strange Winchester Mystery House hotel rooms, and missing an AA meeting with my friends.
Having another job at a restaurant/bar and doing my damnedest to keep from being fired.
Cate wakes me up at noon and says
“Mom you’ve told me to never let you sleep this long.”
Next stop: Talking water mammals
and Abe Lincoln cheating at chess.
Currently listening :
The Heart of Saturday Night
By Tom Waits
Release date: By 25 October, 1990