Two nights ago, I dreamed my husband died.
Only, it wasn’t Husband, whom I’m currently married to – it was my cousin’s husband, John. Only he didn’t look like John, he looked like someone else. Someone I’ve never met or recognized.
At the funeral, I ran into someone from high school. Back in July, I had my 20th high school reunion. I ran into friends I hadn’t seen in 20 years, and one of these friends was Marcy. Marcy was at my dream funeral-for-my-husband-who-was-not-my-husband-and-who-was-John-only-he-wasn’t-John. At the dream funeral, Marcy was looking through the prayer cards that had pictures of the deceased. Only these prayer cards were like wallet-sized professional pictures of John-who-wasn’t-John, and John’s family-who-wasn’t-my family. Several different versions of prayer cards, in full color and a glossy finish. I sat next to Marcy with a box of these prayer cards (apparently, I had the task to refill the prayer cards in these little business card holder things). I told her that the dead man was my husband; she was concerned. I knew her concern was because the real-life Marcy knows my husband is Husband, not John and she was worried Husband was dead, even though she was looking at the glossy family pictures of John at his funeral. I told her, don’t worry, Husband wasn’t dead and then I went about refilling the prayer cards in the business card holders.
I remember having the feelings that I was so happy it wasn’t Husband in the casket and now that John was dead, Husband and I could be together. In this dream, the last 20 years of my life didn’t happen. The feelings I had were unusual – I was not sad to be a widow, or to say goodbye to the man I called my husband. I was only sad that John was dead because his children would miss him – and the children were his current, real-life children, and not Daughter.
When I woke up and remembered this dream, all I could think was: What the hell was I doing being married to him? (And let the record reflect that I am in no way attracted to John, nor am I envious of my cousin’s life with John.) I certainly can’t figure this one out on my own.
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
I Dreamed a Dream...(and no, it's not about Susan Boyle)
Inspired by my blog-crush, Meditations in an Emergency, after the comments to this blog post were about nightmares, I feel like sharing more of my dreams...
A few years ago I dreamed that I cut off my right hand and then cooked it like a pot roast. Yep, you read that correctly. Disturbing, n’est pas? Even though it was a years ago, I still remember vividly the sawing off of my right hand (I’m left-handed), and while there was no pain or blood, I remember having to really saw away at it, totally just hacking it off. The dream got more strange when I decided to cook the hand. The memory of that was taking the pan out of the oven and the hand-pot roast was slightly bloated from the water/broth, and there were onions and carrots and whatever also floating around the hand. It was palm up and like a beige color. And for the record, no, I didn’t dream I ate it (now that would be really weird!), nor did I serve it to Husband or anyone else. The dream pretty much ended there. Thank goodness.
Not too long ago, I had a dream about a long-lost friend, Tim. Tim and I recently reconnected thanks to good ‘ole Facebook. Tim lives in Los Angeles and is openly gay (which I’m only stating because it’s possibly relevant to the story). In the dream, I had gone to visit Tim in LA (although I’ve never actually been there) and at one point in the dream, we’ve gone shopping. Except the shops we are visiting are similar to thrift shops or second-hand stores (or “vintage” and “antique” stores). It was a bright sunny day, and these stores were having sidewalk sales. The weird part was that everything for sale was completely disgusting, decayed or just pure shit. Like one store had baby carriages and bird cages that were broken and whatever, and another store had canned goods for sale, but the cans were severely rusted, dented and just plain nasty. I remember remarking to Tim that even homeless people wouldn’t eat those canned goods. Another point in the story, Tim and I are at a pawn-shop like place, and we’re looking at the jewelry collection. Tim and I have the same initials, so we were looking for jewelry charms or whatever with our initials. I remember seeing lots of religious paraphernalia such as bibles, crosses, etc. and everything was super-old. I specifically remember opening one of the bibles, and it was a family bible from 100 years ago or something. Despite all of the decay and age of everything in the dream, my feelings in the dream were happiness and elation, because I was enjoying spending time with Tim. At one point I kissed him, but not like a make-out sort of kiss, but it was on the cheek and I gave it to him because I missed him so much and was just excited to see him again.
A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed about my friend, Shannon. The dream happened before my karaoke birthday celebration, and that was the topic of the dream. The dream was relatively quick and I was waiting for Shannon to come pick me up so we could begin the drunken shenanigans. After she was at least an hour late, I call her on her cell. She picks up and at this point, I am LIVID. I damn near scream “WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” to which she replies that she is “getting her hair did”. I am so pissed and the veins in my neck are practically blowing out because I can’t believe she is blowing off MY BIRTHDAY to go to the hairdresser. She never once gets pissy with me, but puts on this sing-song voice, dripping with sincere sweetness and proceeds to tell me her hairdresser, Sante (don’t ask me where the name came from -- and also this is not Shannon's current hairdresser) wants to talk to me. Again, I am very close to having a massive coronary and I’m all screaming that I don’t want to talk to Sante, he needs to mind his own fucking business. Sante is a sassy, gay black man and he proceeds to get all gay-bitchy at me with a little gay-ghetto thrown in. Eventually, I’m so angry I slam the phone down (or whatever the equivalent of slamming the phone down is in a cell phone world) and the dream ends. I remember waking up and being so angry at Shannon that I could have spit nails.
Well, there you go. A little peek inside my unconscious. Now you know I’m not just crazy in my conscious world, I’m also crazy in my unconscious! I don't think I'd have it any other way, either. A little Crazy goes a long way in making life interesting...or at least I think so. ;)
A few years ago I dreamed that I cut off my right hand and then cooked it like a pot roast. Yep, you read that correctly. Disturbing, n’est pas? Even though it was a years ago, I still remember vividly the sawing off of my right hand (I’m left-handed), and while there was no pain or blood, I remember having to really saw away at it, totally just hacking it off. The dream got more strange when I decided to cook the hand. The memory of that was taking the pan out of the oven and the hand-pot roast was slightly bloated from the water/broth, and there were onions and carrots and whatever also floating around the hand. It was palm up and like a beige color. And for the record, no, I didn’t dream I ate it (now that would be really weird!), nor did I serve it to Husband or anyone else. The dream pretty much ended there. Thank goodness.
Not too long ago, I had a dream about a long-lost friend, Tim. Tim and I recently reconnected thanks to good ‘ole Facebook. Tim lives in Los Angeles and is openly gay (which I’m only stating because it’s possibly relevant to the story). In the dream, I had gone to visit Tim in LA (although I’ve never actually been there) and at one point in the dream, we’ve gone shopping. Except the shops we are visiting are similar to thrift shops or second-hand stores (or “vintage” and “antique” stores). It was a bright sunny day, and these stores were having sidewalk sales. The weird part was that everything for sale was completely disgusting, decayed or just pure shit. Like one store had baby carriages and bird cages that were broken and whatever, and another store had canned goods for sale, but the cans were severely rusted, dented and just plain nasty. I remember remarking to Tim that even homeless people wouldn’t eat those canned goods. Another point in the story, Tim and I are at a pawn-shop like place, and we’re looking at the jewelry collection. Tim and I have the same initials, so we were looking for jewelry charms or whatever with our initials. I remember seeing lots of religious paraphernalia such as bibles, crosses, etc. and everything was super-old. I specifically remember opening one of the bibles, and it was a family bible from 100 years ago or something. Despite all of the decay and age of everything in the dream, my feelings in the dream were happiness and elation, because I was enjoying spending time with Tim. At one point I kissed him, but not like a make-out sort of kiss, but it was on the cheek and I gave it to him because I missed him so much and was just excited to see him again.
A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed about my friend, Shannon. The dream happened before my karaoke birthday celebration, and that was the topic of the dream. The dream was relatively quick and I was waiting for Shannon to come pick me up so we could begin the drunken shenanigans. After she was at least an hour late, I call her on her cell. She picks up and at this point, I am LIVID. I damn near scream “WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” to which she replies that she is “getting her hair did”. I am so pissed and the veins in my neck are practically blowing out because I can’t believe she is blowing off MY BIRTHDAY to go to the hairdresser. She never once gets pissy with me, but puts on this sing-song voice, dripping with sincere sweetness and proceeds to tell me her hairdresser, Sante (don’t ask me where the name came from -- and also this is not Shannon's current hairdresser) wants to talk to me. Again, I am very close to having a massive coronary and I’m all screaming that I don’t want to talk to Sante, he needs to mind his own fucking business. Sante is a sassy, gay black man and he proceeds to get all gay-bitchy at me with a little gay-ghetto thrown in. Eventually, I’m so angry I slam the phone down (or whatever the equivalent of slamming the phone down is in a cell phone world) and the dream ends. I remember waking up and being so angry at Shannon that I could have spit nails.
Well, there you go. A little peek inside my unconscious. Now you know I’m not just crazy in my conscious world, I’m also crazy in my unconscious! I don't think I'd have it any other way, either. A little Crazy goes a long way in making life interesting...or at least I think so. ;)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Depression Snuck Up On Me Today
(Sorry, it's a long one. But entertaining, nonetheless...)
What the hell, Life? When I woke up today, I wasn’t feeling particularly good or bad. I was just going about my morning routine like I do every other day. Shower, get ready for work, get Daughter ready, drive to work…Noticed it was a beautiful morning, here. Bright, sunny and cool – a nice 72 degrees. A perfect morning as far as I was concerned, one where I could roll the windows down during my drive and enjoy a little Howard Stern while being gently caressed by the morning.
And then I got to work and The Depression pounced on me like a kitten pounces at a laser light. For no apparent reason – or so it seemed at first. Shannon texted me about some crazy dream she had about me last night and…EUREKA! I remembered I had a dream last night that totally Bummed me out with a capital B. But before I tell you about the dream, there is a little back story:
Husband used to have this friend, whom I am going to call Homewrecker. Homewrecker was a woman who worked with him. They became friendly when I was pregnant with Daughter. Long story short, over the course of the next 5 years, Homewrecker became a certified nutjob who fell in love with Husband and whom I was suspicious of from the start. Women know women, I always tell Husband. I know when a woman says “X”, she really means “Z”. I know what lurks in the heart of women, because the same shit lurks (or has the potential to lurk) in my heart. Homewrecker even divorced her husband in the hopes that Husband would leave me and our daughter for her and her bratty kids. Now, I don’t know for sure what went on between the two, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were banging the shit out of each other. Really, I wouldn’t. Especially considering how she divorced her husband. You don’t do that shit on a whim, right? But point is, he didn’t leave us for her, nor do I even think he entertained the idea. Homewrecker couldn’t hold a candle to me. I’m prettier, my boobs are way bigger (Husband is a Boob Man) and I was 4000x smarter. Homewrecker was a bit of a dumb-dumb, and while some men may find stupidity cute, Husband does not. He’s an intellect, and likes smart people. And besides, Homewrecker was a pathological liar, who used lies to manipulate Husband into feeling bad/sorry for her. Which toward the end of their relationship, Husband started to believe (when I had been tell him she was a liar the whole time). And if you need an example: one night, I was talking on the phone with Shannon. Through the course of a 45-minute conversation, Homewrecker beeped in on my other line 19 times. I counted and kept track -- it became laughable, although was still immensely irritating. I knew it was her, thanks to caller ID. Finally, on the 19th call, I answered. I was rude as fuck to her too – I told her that I was on the other line, and knew she was trying to call, and that I’d tell Husband she called 19 times when I got off the phone. Once I was off the phone, Husband called her to find out what was so goddam important. She told him how she was in a car accident and had needed him. She lived in a city about 50 miles away from our house, but was “in the neighborhood” visiting a friend of hers and she called him because we lived so close to her. Nevermind calling your OWN husband, or even your friend that you were visiting. Noooo…she decides to call MY husband to come and rescue her. I called BULLSHIT from the second that story came out of her mouth, because I knew it was a lie. And little did she know, Shannon works for the police department for the city she supposedly got in the accident. Of course, there was no police record of her supposed accident. LIAR. Oh, and to top it off, she did tell Husband how rude I was to her. I don’t know what she thought – was Husband going to ground me for being so rude? Take her side? Um, I don’t think so. Crazy Liar, right? And that was only one small example. Trust me, there were MANY more.
Their “friendship” came to a crashing halt when I found, quite by accident, a shit-load of emails between the two of them. In Husband’s defense, he was at least smart enough to not write anything inappropriate in the emails I found – so either he was smart enough to delete the incriminating ones, or there was nothing incriminating to begin with. But the one that stung me the most, was the one where Homewrecker fantasizes about how she knows that “their” time was not then (mainly because of ME, which she mentions in her email), and how she hopes there would be the day where she and Husband could someday go house-shopping, looking for a house for them and their kids. I was floored because frankly – over my dead fucking body. It would have been a cold day in Hell before I ever would have let this woman have anything to do with my daughter. And if Husband would have left me for her – I would have been the nastiest motherfucker ever. The divorce and custody battle would have been disgusting. I usually try to be a peaceful person – but just can’t when it comes to Homewrecker. I have never hated anyone in my life with such vigor. I mean, I don’t wish her anything bad (because I do believe in karma)…I just wish she’d go away permanently.
Anyway, I know I said I was going to make this short, but seriously, 5 years worth of the ups and downs of their friendship – there’s a lot of drama to try and weed through, trust me.
Once I found those emails, I confronted Husband, and gave him the ultimatium: end his friendship with Homewrecker or there was going to be some serious Hell to pay with me. Their friendship went on as long as it had, because I had turned the other cheek. I had told him that he was a grown man, capable of picking his own friends and not having a wife who henpecks him and tells him who he can and cannot be friends with. I told him I trusted him and his judgment. I have always kept him lease-free. I believe in giving him freedom, because once he goes on a lease, resentment settles in. Plus, I didn’t want my ass on a lease either. You gotta trust each other, right?
So, he ended the friendship. I am not sure what he said to her, but he and I have been Homewrecker-free for close to the past 2 years…until last month. I found an addressed card to her on our kitchen table last month. It had a stamp on it all ready to go in the mail. No return address, but her fucking name and address in Husband’s handwriting on the envelope. I confronted Husband with the card. WTF is this? He said it was a birthday card he was going to send to her. WTF? I told him to open it and let me read it. He told me to open it myself, which of course, I did. He wrote some shit about how he hoped she had a nice birthday and how he hoped she was doing well…”and maybe someday we’ll run into each other again…” WTF? I bitched him out and made him rip it up.
Now, to the dream I had.
Last night, I dreamed Husband was back in contact with Homewrecker and had been hiding it from me. I distinctly remember feeling betrayed and heartbroken, extremely hurt and humiliated they were friendly again. I remember crying in the dream, with such intense pain in my heart; nothing Husband said was able to fix it. I felt like my whole life was destroyed and I had to divorce him immediately because the trust between us would never be able to be repaired. I was also so enraged that all I could think about was beating the living shit out of Homewrecker. I was on a mission, blinded by fury.
This morning, I texted Husband and told him – briefly – about the dream. I also had to ask him if he was in contact with her. Truth be told, I do believe he is not in contact with her, because I am somewhat of an amateur private detective, and always know how to snoop on his dumb ass without him knowing. Really. He doesn’t get away with much when I’m on the job. Of course, he responded that no, he’s not in contact with her, and that he’d tell me if he was (this last bit I find a little hard to believe, but whatever). I just wonder what the dream meant. Obviously, I’m afraid of something, right? Is it that I’m afraid of losing my family unit? Him?
But now I feel depressed. I can’t get the hurt out of my heart. Even though the hurt was something that came to me in a dream and isn’t reality, I still can’t shake it. Ever have that happen to you? I feel like I’m going to carry this with me all day.
What the hell, Life? When I woke up today, I wasn’t feeling particularly good or bad. I was just going about my morning routine like I do every other day. Shower, get ready for work, get Daughter ready, drive to work…Noticed it was a beautiful morning, here. Bright, sunny and cool – a nice 72 degrees. A perfect morning as far as I was concerned, one where I could roll the windows down during my drive and enjoy a little Howard Stern while being gently caressed by the morning.
And then I got to work and The Depression pounced on me like a kitten pounces at a laser light. For no apparent reason – or so it seemed at first. Shannon texted me about some crazy dream she had about me last night and…EUREKA! I remembered I had a dream last night that totally Bummed me out with a capital B. But before I tell you about the dream, there is a little back story:
Husband used to have this friend, whom I am going to call Homewrecker. Homewrecker was a woman who worked with him. They became friendly when I was pregnant with Daughter. Long story short, over the course of the next 5 years, Homewrecker became a certified nutjob who fell in love with Husband and whom I was suspicious of from the start. Women know women, I always tell Husband. I know when a woman says “X”, she really means “Z”. I know what lurks in the heart of women, because the same shit lurks (or has the potential to lurk) in my heart. Homewrecker even divorced her husband in the hopes that Husband would leave me and our daughter for her and her bratty kids. Now, I don’t know for sure what went on between the two, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were banging the shit out of each other. Really, I wouldn’t. Especially considering how she divorced her husband. You don’t do that shit on a whim, right? But point is, he didn’t leave us for her, nor do I even think he entertained the idea. Homewrecker couldn’t hold a candle to me. I’m prettier, my boobs are way bigger (Husband is a Boob Man) and I was 4000x smarter. Homewrecker was a bit of a dumb-dumb, and while some men may find stupidity cute, Husband does not. He’s an intellect, and likes smart people. And besides, Homewrecker was a pathological liar, who used lies to manipulate Husband into feeling bad/sorry for her. Which toward the end of their relationship, Husband started to believe (when I had been tell him she was a liar the whole time). And if you need an example: one night, I was talking on the phone with Shannon. Through the course of a 45-minute conversation, Homewrecker beeped in on my other line 19 times. I counted and kept track -- it became laughable, although was still immensely irritating. I knew it was her, thanks to caller ID. Finally, on the 19th call, I answered. I was rude as fuck to her too – I told her that I was on the other line, and knew she was trying to call, and that I’d tell Husband she called 19 times when I got off the phone. Once I was off the phone, Husband called her to find out what was so goddam important. She told him how she was in a car accident and had needed him. She lived in a city about 50 miles away from our house, but was “in the neighborhood” visiting a friend of hers and she called him because we lived so close to her. Nevermind calling your OWN husband, or even your friend that you were visiting. Noooo…she decides to call MY husband to come and rescue her. I called BULLSHIT from the second that story came out of her mouth, because I knew it was a lie. And little did she know, Shannon works for the police department for the city she supposedly got in the accident. Of course, there was no police record of her supposed accident. LIAR. Oh, and to top it off, she did tell Husband how rude I was to her. I don’t know what she thought – was Husband going to ground me for being so rude? Take her side? Um, I don’t think so. Crazy Liar, right? And that was only one small example. Trust me, there were MANY more.
Their “friendship” came to a crashing halt when I found, quite by accident, a shit-load of emails between the two of them. In Husband’s defense, he was at least smart enough to not write anything inappropriate in the emails I found – so either he was smart enough to delete the incriminating ones, or there was nothing incriminating to begin with. But the one that stung me the most, was the one where Homewrecker fantasizes about how she knows that “their” time was not then (mainly because of ME, which she mentions in her email), and how she hopes there would be the day where she and Husband could someday go house-shopping, looking for a house for them and their kids. I was floored because frankly – over my dead fucking body. It would have been a cold day in Hell before I ever would have let this woman have anything to do with my daughter. And if Husband would have left me for her – I would have been the nastiest motherfucker ever. The divorce and custody battle would have been disgusting. I usually try to be a peaceful person – but just can’t when it comes to Homewrecker. I have never hated anyone in my life with such vigor. I mean, I don’t wish her anything bad (because I do believe in karma)…I just wish she’d go away permanently.
Anyway, I know I said I was going to make this short, but seriously, 5 years worth of the ups and downs of their friendship – there’s a lot of drama to try and weed through, trust me.
Once I found those emails, I confronted Husband, and gave him the ultimatium: end his friendship with Homewrecker or there was going to be some serious Hell to pay with me. Their friendship went on as long as it had, because I had turned the other cheek. I had told him that he was a grown man, capable of picking his own friends and not having a wife who henpecks him and tells him who he can and cannot be friends with. I told him I trusted him and his judgment. I have always kept him lease-free. I believe in giving him freedom, because once he goes on a lease, resentment settles in. Plus, I didn’t want my ass on a lease either. You gotta trust each other, right?
So, he ended the friendship. I am not sure what he said to her, but he and I have been Homewrecker-free for close to the past 2 years…until last month. I found an addressed card to her on our kitchen table last month. It had a stamp on it all ready to go in the mail. No return address, but her fucking name and address in Husband’s handwriting on the envelope. I confronted Husband with the card. WTF is this? He said it was a birthday card he was going to send to her. WTF? I told him to open it and let me read it. He told me to open it myself, which of course, I did. He wrote some shit about how he hoped she had a nice birthday and how he hoped she was doing well…”and maybe someday we’ll run into each other again…” WTF? I bitched him out and made him rip it up.
Now, to the dream I had.
Last night, I dreamed Husband was back in contact with Homewrecker and had been hiding it from me. I distinctly remember feeling betrayed and heartbroken, extremely hurt and humiliated they were friendly again. I remember crying in the dream, with such intense pain in my heart; nothing Husband said was able to fix it. I felt like my whole life was destroyed and I had to divorce him immediately because the trust between us would never be able to be repaired. I was also so enraged that all I could think about was beating the living shit out of Homewrecker. I was on a mission, blinded by fury.
This morning, I texted Husband and told him – briefly – about the dream. I also had to ask him if he was in contact with her. Truth be told, I do believe he is not in contact with her, because I am somewhat of an amateur private detective, and always know how to snoop on his dumb ass without him knowing. Really. He doesn’t get away with much when I’m on the job. Of course, he responded that no, he’s not in contact with her, and that he’d tell me if he was (this last bit I find a little hard to believe, but whatever). I just wonder what the dream meant. Obviously, I’m afraid of something, right? Is it that I’m afraid of losing my family unit? Him?
But now I feel depressed. I can’t get the hurt out of my heart. Even though the hurt was something that came to me in a dream and isn’t reality, I still can’t shake it. Ever have that happen to you? I feel like I’m going to carry this with me all day.
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