The Truth Comes Out (In A Dream)

I dreamed last night that my mother had decided to get rid of all my things, and when she heard I would be coming to go through all of it beforehand, she decided to hold a memorial for my brother and my husband.

I got there and started combing through everything -- the My Little Ponies, the baby dolls, the stuffed animals, and as I went through each of them, I remembered things, like where I got them, who gave them to me, etc. I ended up getting rid of the ones that had been given to me by people that were no longer in my life.

People started arriving, people from my past, neighbors of my parents, etc. There were single people, couples, and families, and the women gathered in the kitchen to prepare the food while the men hung around outside. I spent time going back and forth, never feeling safe in either place. I was leery of an attack, whether verbal or physical, I'm not sure.

I went back into the kitchen and overheard my mom telling her version of my story.

"And after her two roommates moved out, she married Stu! Worst. Decision. Ever."

That's when I started yelling.

"FUCK YOU! You don't know ANYTHING about him. He was kind, gentle, patient, intelligent, and wonderful. HE LOVED ME. You are such a BITCH for the way you treated him, and you don't get to talk about him like that!"

And then I ran. I ran into a mall and as I fled past the stores, weeping, I spotted him next to me, in his red shirt and white glasses. He was with me.

I didn't see him again, but I managed to regain control of myself and return to the house eventually. Everyone pretended things were normal. I gave away my Little Tyke house and kitchenware, only then my sister said my mom had wanted to do something else with it and we had to go explain that to the lady who wanted it for her little baby girl.

Later, we were being seated at picnic tables outside. I told everyone our sordid family history, finishing up just as my mother sat down next to me.

She was arm to arm with me, and I could tell she wanted to keep me close. I felt like I was gasping for air.

"Well, that's over," she said, referring to my outburst.

"Yeah," I said, "but now everyone knows what you did."

After that, the dream faded.

Stolen

Last night I dreamed that I was at a convention akin to DragonCon. It was in a huge resort area (many several-story buildings) surrounded by desert. We parked in the sand and were getting in line for the big celebration that started off the convention.

I had left my bag in the car and I went back and noticed that a lot of people weren't locking their doors, and there were a few guys who were checking to see if there were any cars they could steal from. I began opening everyone's doors and locking them, and then I grabbed my purse from our car and wanted to put it somewhere safe.

I also had a dryer with me (?!) and wanted to get rid of it at the convention. It was in a storage cube and I printed out a sign and posted it with the sale price and a time to meet me at the dryer so I could hand it over. I hid my purse in it because I was afraid of purse-snatchers in line.

Meanwhile, my friends were waiting in line and saving my place. The sun was hot overhead, and there was hardly any breeze. I told them to wait in their spaces and not worry about me, I'd just line up at the back (it was already out the door and a mile long).

So I went back to the dryer and someone had opened it. My bag was on the floor. I grabbed it and rifled through it looking for my phone.

I couldn't find it.

I knew I'd turned on the "Find My Phone" App so I could track it that way but the callousness of someone just taking my phone with all my photos and videos of Stu broke my heart and I sat there sobbing, sifting through everything, hoping that it would all be there somehow.

And then my wallet popped out. And then my other phone. And then the iPhone. Whoever had taken it out had not taken a single thing.

I dried my eyes and realized I'd missed the opening ceremony for the convention, but it didn't matter because I had my phone with the last picture of Stu on it and that was enough.

Bunnies and Hamsters and Danger, Oh My!

Two dreams from over the weekend/this week:

Dream #1:

I was in the mountains at a ski resort, on a rescue mission.

We were rescuing a charcoal grey rabbit.

My team and I infiltrated the ski resort and I spotted the bunny attempting to meet us while avoiding the authorities.

Once the authorities caught on, however, we were forced to bolt. I grabbed the bunny and we swung from the wooden pallets that turned into mountains that turned into sky and then we were falling into a train curving around a mountain and we were safe.

Mr. Bun-bun had been rescued.


Dream #2:

I dreamed I was on a boat (not a speedboat, but one size bigger, the kind that's like a cruise ship for a lake) in the middle of the night on a large, black lake.

I was below decks, watching a betting game. I was about to purchase some metal for something (I don't know what they were parts for) and I realized I needed to switch funds from savings to checking. I tried using my phone, a desktop, a laptop, and an ATM and nothing would let me log on and see my information, so finally I was told to go find a bit of machinery that would help (possibly a wireless router), but it was hidden.

In a hamster cage.

So I popped open the console while the wind was whipping through my hair, and there was the hamster, fat and happy, asleep and smiling while smushing up against the glass.


...Not sure where these are coming from. I know why I was worried about money, but everything else is pretty random.

Except now I want a charcoal grey bunny.

It Has Been A While

I haven't written personal things online in a while. I have several things I want to write about but life keeps intruding and I am still adjusting to a full-time job, a part-time job, being on medication, and living alone. But I've got two dreams to share with you and some blog posts that will make an appearance over the weekend.

Both dreams occurred this week and I think they're highly symbolic, but I'm having a more difficult time interpreting them. Maybe you have some thoughts?

Dream #1:

I was back in the Village (trailer park I moved out of in February IRL), packing. I was moving out that day and my family were there, taking the things I packed out to the moving van. I went outside to dig up the little rosebush, in full bloom with bright red roses.

I turned it upside down in a vase to protect the flowers. Stu saw that and shook his head. "You know what to do," he said. I took it out, knowing he was right, and tried to scoop some dirt into a box already half full of magazines. He looked at it and said, "dig deeper".

So I thrust my hand into the box and pushed aside the magazines and papers, scooping more dirt into the box so the rosebush would have enough dirt to survive the journey.

LATER:

I was in a hospital, wandering the halls. I went back to my room, where my body was lying on its side. It was clothed in jeans and a black tee. My mom could see me, as could the staff. They were telling me about my body, which had been stabbed.

"It wants to live," they said. "It was a long time recovering, but your body fought to survive."


Dream #2:

I was wandering a gallery/antique mall with my family in North Carolina that we had visited on a past trip. I went to my favorite gallery but discovered it was being renovated for another artist. I took down the new things (more kitsch and country than the European art I had loved before) to find my favorite, a painting of a smiling, dark-haired Duchess (IRL the painting is at El Prado in Madrid).

When the gallery/antique mall owners saw that I was trying to find a way to display my favorite while putting the kitsch and country art back up, I thought I would get in trouble, but instead they put me to work on an art installation that someone else had not completed.

LATER:

I dreamed my family and I were at a house similar to the one I spent part of my senior year of highschool in - a barn-like structure in South Carolina. I dreamed my mother was in a bedroom giving birth to my youngest brother.

When he was born, we wrapped him up but he wanted to move and he kept growing faster and faster. Soon he was old enough to start walking and I followed him around trying to get him to stay out of trouble. There were swarms of wasps racing through the porch, there were farm animals that he wanted to play with that could hurt him, and there were big farm machines that he wanted to climb into and operate.

I spent hours trying to get him to understand that there were so many dangerous things he was not allowed to interact with and he just happily kept escaping and getting into mischief. I had just convinced him that I would take him on a ride on the big tractor when I noticed he had disappeared under the house.

My grandpa was there but that didn't stop me from yelling, "F*@#$%K!!!"

Grandpa merely laughed at me, and dismissed my apology. I, meanwhile, was busy crawling under the house attempting to save my brother from certain disaster.

---

...I think I'm beginning to see some things in the first dream and the first part of the second dream, but I don't really know what to do with the information. Anybody?

Plaid Suit, Men in Black, Neighborhood Terror

I dreamed last night that I was living in a brick house in an older neighborhood with my siblings. I was tinkering in the garage (fixing a car or bike I think) when a couple of big, burly older men rolled up in a huge semi. There was something wrong with it and they asked for a part but when I didn't have that they wanted some motor oil.

I thought we had plenty lying around but I kept combing the shelves and all I came up with was a big bottle that was mostly empty. They took that and then asked to use the phone. I wasn't really ok with them coming inside (I didn't know them and it was just me and my sister and my brother) but they barged in and began canvassing the house.

I knew then they were dangerous so I pushed my siblings out the door and told them to go hide somewhere in the neighborhood. I tried to keep the men from opening the doors in the house (it was mostly empty like we'd must moved in) but they unleashed their horrific children (the kids were feral and there was something monstrous about them - they weren't really kids).

I went out into the neighborhood. No one else was around. So I climbed into an empty house and ran to a closet. I searched for a way to hide as the men had followed me and I found a secret passage in the closet that led to the top of the house. If I could hide up there they would never find me.

I found a grey and black plaid (the big plaid) suit and grabbed that and decided I would disguise myself as a male. I felt something in me switch and I was male. I had short brown hair and straight lines instead of curves. I hid in the closet passage and when the men were past the house I got up into the attic and changed while I kept an eye out via the small octagonal window with shutters at the back of the attic.

I don't know if they ever found me because I woke up immediately after.

Back and Forth

I have been yanked back and forth by my inner struggles for the last six weeks.

One day I love everybody and want to be with them and take the initiative, and the next day I'm sobbing in my room because I feel like no one goes out of their way to be kind to me.

I'm trying to tell myself that this in no way means I have cruel friends. I don't, in fact. They are quite wonderful. But this depression has warped my brain so that I need/want more than people are capable of giving and that's where the disappointment comes in.

I cannot expect people to give me what I want, especially since at this point I am very needy. I am still getting used to the idea of being a widow and I miss my spouse more than anything in the entire world. I do not have someone like that and probably won't and I'll have to deal with that.

I also cannot expect younger people to understand or have time to take care of me. They are figuring out themselves and can barely take care of their own things let alone reach out to someone else. It isn't fair for me to expect things of them.

So what do I do? How do I communicate that I don't blame them for feeling this way but knowing that I need more than people are capable of giving? What if I need so much that there isn't anyone who can help me? Why do I need more right now?

I hate it. I hate being this way. I want to kick depression in its ugly face. I want to be free of it once and for all. But instead I just stair at the ceiling and tears leak out of my eyes because no one seems to care about how much I'm hurting.

I feel selfish (even though I know that I'm in pain and that my feelings are valid). I feel stupid. I feel alone.

I just feel sorry that my friends have to deal with me right now. I'm not the "fun" me they knew last semester. I can't be her anymore. That was me trying to push myself out of a hole and for once jump headlong into something I didn't worry too much about.

Guess what? It blew up in my face and now I'm shaking in my room afraid to reach out to people in case they decide to slash at me (emotionally). I want companionship so badly that I'm starving for affection but no matter who reaches out or how much, I'm the dog that has been abandoned and I just don't trust people any more.

This jumble of trust-abandonment-rejection issues needs to be taken care of. I just don't know how. And what does it look like on the other side? Can people get through this?

All I can think of is that I wish I could just sleep the rest of my life away so I don't have to worry about being a failure, or that people don't actually love me, or that I won't ever be able to be healthy and happy ever again.

What Love Looks Like

I have these friends.

These friends I made for myself, on my own, after.

I met them because we are theatre kids.

One is a middle-class Southern straight white girl. She is a born leader, able to get things done with determination. She started up a theatre program so that us misfits could find each other. She is capable of many things, and I think she'll do whatever she wants. But deep down she's insecure about her weight, her looks, and her self. Her mother is verbally abusive and so she has learned to hide her emotions, even from herself. I call her Vulcan.

One is from a poor Southern pastor's family. He's gay. He is sassy. He loves parties, musicals, and Liza Minelli, good food, road trips, and people. He's a warm person, compassionate. He works with children with disabilities. But deep down he's worried that no one will ever love him. He also believes he needs to remain celibate because of his faith. I call him Sweet [name withheld].

One is from a truly "average" American Southern family. He's a 4 on the Kinsey scale [mostly homosexual but with some heterosexual attraction - may identify as pan, bi or queer]. He has a beautiful voice. He has a sunny disposition, a big smile and blue eyes, and he gets energized by hanging out with his favorite people. He's talented, with a big heart. But his dad has never connected with him emotionally and any story with a father and son makes him cry. I don't have a pet name for him yet. I'm working on it.

And then there's me. A poor white girl from a family with complicated emotional issues. I identify as a genderfluid, panromantic asexual. Two of those are wrong according to spellcheck. And most people don't recognize any of those terms as valid. I keep losing people, which has led to abandonment and trust issues. My parents abandoned me emotionally when my little brother died. I have had to say goodbye to so many people because we moved all the time. And my husband died less than a year ago. I'm not confident in my abilities and I'm not sure that I'm really good at any one thing.

They call me Kate. Or Katheryn Elizabeth (which is not my real name).

But we found each other doing theatre.

I love these people. But I didn't believe they loved me. Why would I?

So I became sad and withered, withholding myself from a relationship with them because of my abandonment and trust issues. I thought they would abandon me. I didn't know if I could trust them.

But I started talking yesterday. I'd been in a spiral for a month and I finally spilled my guts as they took me to work.

They send me the sweetest texts that afternoon and made a plan to meet me later. We went to our favorite place that night and talked honestly about ourselves. And then we went to the house and we cuddled on the couch together. We put on a fire (courtesy of Netflix), went outside for a smoke, and came in for tea and blankets. We scrunched up and just held each other.

We hugged each other goodnight and said "I love you". And they told me to ask for whatever I needed. That they were not going to leave.

I made these friends by myself. We are all broken. We are unique. We accept each other as we are, in all our messes, our faults, our mistakes, and our flounderings as we try to understand each other. We love each other.

I feel like I have finally found the type of friendship I have always been seeking. It's difficult to be honest with each other, it's difficult to navigate life alongside someone who may think quite differently from you - but it is worth it. The quiet moments where we feel safe with each other, the moments where we share ourselves, the moments where we decide to do something crazy...these are the moments I treasure because they mean we are being human, almost maybe the way we were meant to.

Last night was very nearly like the dream I had a few days ago, and it was with the same people.

So I guess sometimes, dreams do come true.

And I don't care if that's cheesy.

My good dreams hardly ever come true. This is worth celebrating.