What Dreams May Come

Please pardon my rambling. It's one of those days. Tomorrow a very focused Five Things, promise.


Last night I had this bizarre and uncomfortable dream about someone trying to hurt me, emotionally. There was a lot of running around in corridors and this guy made me think that he was awful and everyone was on my side, but in reality, he was awful and everyone was on his side.

I woke up trying to remember why a balloon with a snottty message in it was scary enough for me to wake up in a cold sweat. I don't know... Maybe it's because I fell asleep watching American Horror Story or maybe it's just my stress level. Or maybe it's latent memories of those balloons in It and "we all float down here..."

I don't think I ever really got over being scared of It.


I've been dreaming a lot lately. Not just weird, uncomfortable night dreams that leave me feeling confused and also, sort of watched. Day dreams too. I'm dreaming of going back to school. I'm thinking about it a lot even though I've missed the cut off for Spring semester and it's going to be that much longer before I get it all together.

I'm dreaming of redecorating my kitchen and my bedroom.

I'm dreaming of opening an Etsy shop and selling some of my crafts.

I'm dreaming of keeping a clean house.

I'm dreaming of Christmas.

What I'm not doing is doing. I'm not studying for the GRE. I'm not painting my kitchen or rearranging my bedroom furniture to figure out if it fits the other way. I'm not stockpiling enough craftsy things to get a shop started. I'm not getting ahead of the curve on the housecleaning. I'm not making Christmas presents.

I'm just dreaming.

I feel stalled. I think it's a little because of the uncertainty in my life. It's a little because I'm avoiding home to some degree. And it's a little because nighttime, when I should be doing those things, is when I mostly succumb to the sadness. I feel a little sorry for myself and I want ice cream and TV. I haven't even been reading and that is really saying a lot for me. (My 33 list is looking pitiful.)

I need to get motivated to do something and do it.

I know me well enough to know that if I don't do anything, that just contributes to my malaise. The only way for me to get over it is to get moving. Not even a lot of moving - crochet, reading, just not long, hot baths and TV flipping.

I guess I'm putting this out there because I think if I see it in print, I'll know in my heart what I already know in my head.

I'm fine, but I'm also sad. I don't like dealing with the stuff - the clothes and books and boxes and things that belong to him. I don't want to see them, but I don't want to pack them up. I need to do things to feel good enough to do them, but to do that, I've got to go home and not go straight to bed. I've got to deal when I'm there with all the stuff that's much easier to deal with when I'm not there. I've got to get moving. Even a little. Because it's like an avalanche with me. A little pebble of movement will begin the cascade and then I'll be myself again.

I can't wait to be myself again.