These Dreams September 18, 2008

I had the most ridiculous dream last night.  It’s ridiculous in that it was so far from the truth.  It’s also ridiculous because it really made me feel things.

I had this dream that I wanted to cheat on The Mister with a married man who was a coke addict and the father of two young boys. Let’s just stop there–first of all, I’m anti-cheating.  Secondly, I have no desire to cheat on The Mister.  Thirdly, if I were to cheat, I would find someone who wasn’t also cheating–two wrongs don’t make a right, but they can muddy things up.  Fourthly, I wouldn’t cheat with someone who had kids…that’s just fucked up.

So you see, even if I were the cheating kind (which I’m not), I have some standards.

But something about this dream rattled me.  I think it was the passionate sexual tension–nothing actually happened except for several close calls.  I just ran around this dream like a moron trying to hook up with this guy (who I know I’ve seen somewhere and can’t place his face) and always running into trouble along the way. (You think the dream version of me would have taken this as a hint.)

That’s when I realized something:  I’m much more excited about things when they exist as possibilities than when they exist as realities. This is almost always true.  I was more excited about being a lawyer before I was a lawyer.  I was more excited about being in a relationship before I was in a relationship.  I was more excited about living by myself before (and after) living by myself.  I can’t buy myself a piece of reality that holds a candle to the possibilities that can exist in my head.

This is, quite possibly, why I am a writer.  I have way too many ideas to express than I could possibly bring to fruition, but more importantly, would I want them all to come to fruition anyhow?

I have an ending to this dream that I concieved while awake.  It involves me finally getting what I want and realizing that it wasn’t that good. I mean, first off he’s a coke addict–that can’t be great. He was an older dude, so maybe there were some generational issues.  Most importantly, I’d ruin a perfectly good marriage of love and trust to throw in my lot with a guy who clearly is a mess.

Then I realize the greatest self-defeating fact of all:  I just rationalized myself out of a good sex dream.  Maybe I have a problem with appreciating reality because I try so hard to rationalize everything…even my subconscious.

I can’t win for losing.

NOTE:  No marriages were harmed during the making of this dream or this blog post.

Strung Out On Summer August 11, 2008

I finally confessed something to The Mister yesterday that I’ve hid for the past five years.  I rarely admit this to anyone; not out of shame, but just out of a desire not to get into a dissertation about it, as most people disagree with me.

I really hate summer.

There. I’ve admitted it to the world and we can all move on.  I can’t peg down one specific reason, but for as long as I can remember I’ve felt this time of the summer…these dog days before the school year starts, while the air conditioning is cranked high every waking moment, I just feel…exhausted and restless at the same time.  It’s something that has plagued me since  very young age.  It’s not just the weather, it’s the emotions.  In other words–it’s something far more than I can discuss without many more years of therapy.

This has made the whole house thing even harder.  One of my greatest flaws is that I won’t let myself be happy or excited about something until it’s halfway over.  I did the same thing with my wedding.  I distanced myself from any emotions for such a long time.  I have this inate fear that anytime I get happy about something, nothing good follows.  So, instead of just trusting my heart, I let my brain take over and distance myself.

We’re supposed to be closing on a house this week?  No big whoop. It’s actually quite stressful.

We are getting married in a week?  Can’t wait until the thing is over!

Just got engaged?  Yeah, but it’s over a year until we’re married.

Got accepted to law school?  Yeah, but it’s just in Detroit.

I can go back through a million instances where my need to emotionally distance myself from my own happiness has struck me and those around me. The fact that this one is happening in the summer doesn’t help.

It doesn’t help that I was blessed with a vivid imagination and a knack for being overly-emotional about things.  There are so many things I want to accomplish in my life that sometimes I just move on to the next one before I let the instant one sink in.  God forbid I allow myself some sense of accomplishment.

At some point I have to learn that all my dreams, while all brilliant and worthwhile, are sometimes incompatible with one another.  (I can’t be a brilliant appellate lawyer, college professor, book/record store owner and a full-time writer–there’s just not enough time in the day.)  We pick forks in the road that lead us to new choices and not being able to go back is a good thing.  Just imagine the mess we’d make if we could!

As Billy says “Dream on–but don’t imagine they’ll all come true…”

Tonight I felt a few cool breezes and I even had to put on a sweatshirt to walk the dog.  I don’t know if it’s just a cold snap, a reminder of better, more self-aware times to come, or an omen.  I do know, though, that my self-composed-barricades are only as good as the facade I allow them to be.

Maybe soon I’ll learn to let that facade fade away.