cybermule | (no subject)

Well, I've come to the conclusion that I don't dream (or I don't remember my dreams) when I'm sleep deprived. So I won't be dreaming much during the week because I trim off my sleeping hours to be able to fit everything in. And talking of fitting everything in, I skived my English class today. I hadn't done the homework, it's cold, I want to fix up my garden. Blah blah blah... sometimes flexibility is better than perfection.

Anyway, back to the dreams. I keep dreaming about a dark underground city. Too many RPGs, I guess :) But this time, I had to act as a medic. I think I've spent too much timelistening to M wibble on about Enemy Territory. I was OK with this, except they kitted me out in this stupid uniform. Just like the uniform I had to wear at nursing college. Blah. And I couldn't get one that fitted me right. This would be like real life - my body is all different sizes. I just had to get rid of a pair of jeans that were way too big for me all of a sudden. I know that's a good thing, getting smaller, but then having to buy new jeans is never good *sigh*

The rest of the dream was mainly just wandering around the city fixing ill/wounded people up.

Last night's dream was mainly in the nightmare realm - we had a work party, but were forced to have it as a lock-in at a hotel. Wahhhh! First of all, I had to find the hotel, and the public transport was all screwed, so I was wandering around rural Oxfordshire trying to find the hotel. Mostly in this town that looked a bit like Marlow, walking up and down looking for buses and stuff. Then I suddenly switched to the right hotel, and I was having this really long converstaion with B. She was being all friendly and effusive, and I just wanted her to piss off and leave me alone. IRL I don't really like her- she's a bit two-faced and annoying, and I caught her bitching about me at work once, so I wish sh'ed just butt out of my dreams ;)

Next the dream switched to a dark, disco-like room. I was talking to an ex about why we split up, and I really didn't want that conversation. IIRC, we split up because we had nothing in common :P He was a born-again christian, who'd only go out with other like-minded people, and I'd decided that it wasn't for me, so end of story really. Then this other guy from work came over and started hitting on me slightly, and I guess that the male attention would have been cool, but for the fact that I just wanted to do what I always do for work-socialising and just sit in the corner, smoking, drinking and being slightly weird.

Meh. I guess that last sentence would pretty much sum up my attitudes to relationships in general - all very nice, but I just want to do my own thing. I often feel bad about that - I'm unsure whether love is a capability within my emotional circuits. I value any current relationship above most other things, except my own internal life. Try and get involved in that, and I get cranky. Which possibly is the cause of the lack of "this is the one" feelings and intimacy. I'm not even sure if I'm particularly straight or monogamous - these are just assumptions that I've always made, and there seems to be little or no evidence to back them up. I guess that to be honest, I'm just a bit self-centred. There you have it - it's not my fault, I just never really learned any better. My parents marriage, and to be honest, most other relationships, just seem a bit cloying and restrictive. I never really think of the romantic, or even the sexual aspects of attraction, just the fact that I've fallen in love with the brain of an individual.

Ah well. I bought a book on getting over toxic parents from Amazon. I'm suspicious of these self-help books - it's easy to rub me the wrong way and make me feel bad about handling alcoholic parents. I can see where the author of the last book I read was coming from, and even agreed with her, but had a strong suspicion that she was looking at being an alcoholic parent rather than actually having one. Which is a different kettle of fish, as you basically have to resign yourself to the fact that you're not the most important thing in their life, and their most important thing is not even something understandable, like their own partner, but is a bottle of Scotch. They'll jump out of moving vehicles for their liquor, or try to kill themselves when it's taken away. Blah. My friends have strict instructions to push me down the stairs if I get like that. Especially if I stop washing :P

On the subject of parents, I had a few revelations last week regarding changing emotions towards my dad. In some ways, having discussed it with my oldest and closest friend, my eyes have been opened to the fact that he was somewhat abusive. Emotional incest was the term - he treated me as a surrogate wife as far as sharing emotions and thoughts. My mum was too drunk, and they were too far apart, so I guess he just preferred to talk things through with me. Which of course made my mom hate me, and hence the explosions in the good old summer of '94. Anyway, back to the point - despite his faults, I've got through the stage of anger at his death. I still think it was a terrible waste, and I'm saddened at the whole sliding destruction of my family. I'm sad that my parents never seemed happy, but then I empathise with my dad's depressive nature, and my mom's likely inability to cope with that.

And my dad did have his good points. He loved the snow, and my first thought when it snowed last week was to phone him and compare snowfall. Obviously, my second thought was "shit - that's never going to happen". It's surprising how entrenched certain habits are, and how you hang onto illogical ideas when you lose someone. I've been convinced for a while that I'll find him one day, or someone justlike my dad who thinks I'm their long-lost daughter :) So silly, so illogical, so human. I only really knew last week that that was not going to happen. He loved the snow, he loved Christmas, and always used to buy some reject tree at the last minute that barely fitted in the house. He was fearless and strongly socialist when he was younger - I remember him stealing holly off the estate of some big house, and the owner came out to tell him off, and my dad just stood there and ranted at them. He never stammered when he ranted about something close to his heart :) I guess that the point to this is that now I can remember all these good points, and the anger has almost melted away to pure sadness. I guess that the other point is that he's not coming back, that I have to accept that and move on, and celebrate the good things about him. Now I just have to celebrate them through my own appreciation - I'm not one for believing in the after-life... maybe he was out there somewhere looking at the snow, but I guess if nothing else, he's still there in that he handed some of those things on to me.

Cheesy, and I would never have thought I would subscribe to that, but you get your hope where you can :)