Bleh. That is my one word summation of today. Bleh.
Spent another day sleeping too much and dreaming too hard and waking up soaked in sweat feeling deeply disoriented and distinctly ill.
It is kind of a drag, you know?
But what the hell, here I am, alive another day on Planet Earth, thankful that I am who I am and not someone who truly has it hard in life.
After all, my main problem is finding something meaningful to do with my life and finding some kind of connection with others.
Well, and money.
That is way better than worrying about whether I will eat tomorrow or whether I will still be alive when the rainy season ends. So I am glad for that.
As much as my life sucks and does not suit me, it could be a hell of a lot worse.
Still, this sleepy shit always gets me down eventually.
It is almost fun at first, or at least nice. I am relaxed and calm and sleepy, and I just snooze away contently, not really feeling bad when I wake up, just soft and gray and lazy.
But sooner or later I get real sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I start to fight the sleepiness because I want to, you know, do stuff, and that is when it gets unpleasantly like treading water and desperately trying to get back to shore, but the tide keeps taking you further out to sea.
It’s just that there’s so much to do and I’m tired of sleeping!
But meh. Whatever. Local adventures include a dream in which Felicity and I were driving around my home town in a massive APC urban assault vehicle which had all kinds of cool stuff like a lever you pulled to make little fold-out personal riot shields pop out, the sort of thing that would protect you from small caliber fire or thrown items but not any serious fire.
Why we were driving something like that around is anyone’s guess. She just showed up to pick me up in it, and I got in like it was nothing.
Dreams are cool like that.
And so there we were, cruising around Summerside, and (as has to happen in every Summerside dream) we went past the house I grew up in.
But in my dream world, one absolutely reliable feature is that in dream Summerside, that house is just plain not there any more, although in my dream world, I rarely remember that until I actually get to where it is supposed to be and then there is some totally different house there, or nothing at all.
And then I think “Oh right, it’s not there any more, and if I am trying to get ‘home’, I have to go to my grandparent’s house, which is where Mom and Dave live now. ”
And that always makes me a little sad, and in some dreams, it is a serious bitch because that means I have to go all the way from where I grew up to where my mother and brother live now (still think of it as my grandparents’ house, though they are long gone) and that means a long long walk uphill through pretty much my entire town.
And depending on the conditions of the dream, that might be very hard. I have had dreams where I have to try to do this through a blizzard, or a flood, or some vague but terrible Apocalypse.
But the interesting thing is that the house I grew up and that was my own safe place in the world is always gone, gone, gone, which is a lot easier for my to deal with than the fact that it is still there in the real world, just full of strangers living totally different lives with totally different furniture and appliances and bedroom assignments and everything.
That is just plain not fair. I was told by my parents that that house at 135 Belmont Street would always be there for me no matter what happens to me in the big mean adult world.
But then the divorced happened, and my parents sold the house, and so that is just another promise my parents did not keep to me, like paying for a full college education, and being there for me when I needed them, or that they would protect and care for me.
They ended up being less parents and more caretakers. Wait, no, those actually look after you when you are having troubles. Hmm, let’s see.
They were more like negligent pet owners who keep the food and water bowls full, but otherwise ignore their pet and get irritated with it any time it has any problems that force them to remember they have it.
And you know what? When you only pay attention to something when its problems force you to, it is really easy (and fun!) to start thinking of it as “only being a burden” and thus justify your continued neglect.
I mean, why pay attention to that disgusting, messy animal when all they do is cringe and hide, or occasionally pathetically try to please you when you show it the slightest attention?
Even getting rid of it would be mean paying more attention than you feel it’s worth. And it’s not technically sick or starving or anything, so you are a perfectly adequate pet owner, right?
And most of the time, you can ignore it. So as far as you are concerned, everything is fine.
And it is… for everyone who counts.
Yup. That’s another good metaphor I just made. Damn I am good at those.
I just have to keep saying to myself : I did not deserve to be treated like that. Nobody deserves that kind of emotional neglect. Being the last along and unplanned does not mean I deserved to be treated like a pet they never wanted and preferred to pretend was not there.
If I keep saying it, I will eventually believe it.