Confessions of an over-active imagination

Let’s talk for a second about wedding related nightmares.

I’d heard it before — that as soon as you get engaged, you start having wedding related nightmares that don’t stop until after the wedding.  I brushed it off and thought “must be insecurities showing through.”  But oh no, they definitely occur.  I’ve had three so far, and it hasn’t even been three weeks!

The first one was standard.  After months and months of planning a beautiful, exciting wedding, B changed his mind.  My maid of honor was the one to bring me the most unfortunate news that I would not be getting married that day.  Refusing to take her word as truth, I marched myself down a long hallway, flung open the chapel doors, and found…approximately 100 people staring at me silently, looks of abject horror, mixed with pity, upon their faces.  I slowly walked up the aisle, searching for B, but he was nowhere to be found.

The second was rather comical.  At the Wedding Of My Dreams, everything was going beautifully.  We had indeed made it down the aisle together, said our vows in front of our closest family and friends, and were enjoying a beautiful and fun reception.  I went searching for the photographer to tell him something important, when it hit me.  I’d forgotten to hire one!  Immediately I found my bridal party and informed them that we would all need to stop the party and find a photographer pronto.  Cue immediate Google Search for skilled, yet available, photographer to come document the reception and an emergency re-enactment of the ceremony.  Only I couldn’t find any contact information for ANY photographer, let alone a skilled and available one.

And finally, last night’s feature.  I crossed a street in a hurry, followed closely by a male coworker.  Upon reaching the sidewalk, we dumped my bag out into the grass and began frantically searching through its contents.  Finally, I found what I was looking for:  my engagement ring, or rather, the diamond setting to my engagement ring.  It had broken off and was floating around in my purse.  The band still on my finger, I yanked it off and flung open the doors to the jewelry store in anger.  I quickly informed the salesperson of what had happened — that this was the THIRD time my setting had fallen apart — and that I demanded a new ring, with the same diamond as before, re-set in a new band in front of my eyes.  The salesperson just laughed and said to me “Ma’am, in these situations, we suggest installing floor to ceiling mirrors in your home so that you can see your diamond at all times.  Then it won’t be lost.”  The look on her face seemed to say “duh, COMMON SENSE.”  I flung my arms in the air, turned around, and yelled to everyone in the store “OF COURSE!  Floor to ceiling mirrors will make me aware of SHITTY CRAFTSMANSHIP!”

Seriously, wtf?  Especially the last one.

I woke up this morning in a haze, B shaking me awake, and I desperately searched my ring finger.  There it was, sitting perfectly, and without flaw.  I’d never been so relieved to wake up in my life.

I don’t know what this is all about, but I will say:  being engaged also has its downsides.  Namely, the totally paranoid, stressed, overactive part of your imagination kicks into play.

But other than that?  It’s fucking fantastic.

Toeing the line of decency

Have you all ever had a friend who you didn’t exactly trust fully?  I know it sounds ridiculous because you’re probably thinking “why would you consider someone your friend if you felt you couldn’t trust them?”  It’s complicated.  It’s like, I want to trust her.  Life would be easier if I did trust her.  I’m sure our friendship would be more “real” if I trusted her fully, yet, I just can’t get there.  There is just something about her that makes me feel ill at ease in certain situations.

Mostly involving B.

I’ve been friends with her for about three years.  We met through mutual friends and hit it off immediately.  We hung out a lot, did things together, had common interests, etc.  But there always seemed to be this wall in between us that we couldn’t break through.  It was a silent problem — I knew it was there, but I never said anything.  I sensed that she knew it was there too, yet she never said anything either.  But then, about a year into the friendship, I figured it out.  I didn’t trust her around my boyfriend.

I started noticing the overly flirty way she behaved around him.  She sought out attention from him.  B is the type of guy who just doesn’t notice things like that, so when I finally said something to him about it, I wasn’t surprised at his reaction.

“No way.  I think you’re just being paranoid.”

But then, he noticed it too.  I guess after having said something to him, he started to pick up on little signals that to him, just didn’t feel right. 

“You know, I think you might not be so crazy after all.  I can definitely see what you’re saying now.”

He started keeping his distance.  I think he might even feel a little uncomfortable around her at times.  Mostly, it happens when we’re in a social situation and we’ve been drinking.  She gets to this point where it’s like she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.  Before I know it, she’s trying to dance with him, touching his arm a lot, attempting to take pictures with him, etc.  Normally I’m not a person who shies away from a confrontation.  But for some reason, I tend to just sit there silently, stewing in my anger and discomfort.  At first, I tried to convince myself that it was just me.  But then after B said something, my justification turned to “maybe I just made him feel paranoid with my own paranoia.”  But then, a few weeks back, she was being overly flirty with B again, and this time, another friend witnessed it.  She pulled me aside and said “[CP], WHAT are you doing?  Why don’t you go say something to her about the way she’s acting with B?”  I just half-smiled, shrugged my shoulders and said, “Oh, it’s nothing.  I trust him.”  She crossed her arms over her chest, looked at me with concern and said “Yeah, but do you trust HER?”

Last night I had a dream nightmare that involved B ignoring me and spending all his time with her.  I was walking around with a girlfriend, trying to enjoy myself at some sort of carnival, but we kept catching sight of B with her.  They were laughing and smiling.  He wouldn’t look at me.  And when I would call out his name, he pretended not to hear me.  I felt heartbroken, like all my suspicions had been justified, and I was being manipulated.  I was so angry at her — angry for hurting me, for destroying our “friendship”, and for stealing the only boy who I’ve ever loved.  But did I say anything to her?  No.  I stood there, rooted to the spot like concrete, unable to defend myself or fight for the guy I love.  And when I woke up this morning, having slept through my alarm for 30 minutes, I was pissed off.  Did I really need that extra 30 minutes of sleep?  Especially if it involved THAT kind of mental activity?  I don’t think so.

I’m the eternal optimist, and I believe in the good in everyone, so call me crazy, but — I don’t think she does it on purpose.  I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it.  And really, who could blame her?  I haven’t spoken up about it, so she doesn’t even know that it bothers me.  But she’s the type of person that if I go to her with this, she’ll be angry and defensive and just get pissed off and stop speaking to me.  And really, I don’t have the energy to deal with that kind of childish drama. 

I guess I’m just pissed off at myself for not speaking up.  For not having the ability to just put my girl girl panties on and deal with it. 

WTF?  She is the one who is toeing the line of decency and I feel guilty? 

Why?

I woke up this morning completely discombobulated.  As I rolled over to glance at the clock, I tried to shake the pictures from my brain.  I had another one of those dreams last night, and it’s becoming downright annoying at this point. 

Every once in a while I have a dream about this guy from my past.  It involves him and I alone, him and I with friends, him and I in all sorts of random situations.  Last night’s dream featured us out to dinner with friends, then flying in a fighter jet (seriously?  wtf?).  He was the pilot and I was the passenger, and he kept putting his hand on my knee.  We were spinning and looping the plane, and as I giggled, I felt very happy and elated to be with him.  Then, as I woke up this morning and saw B standing in front of the bed getting ready for work, I felt the all-too-familiar pangs of guilt. 

“You were smiling while you slept.”

I buried my face in the pillow and tried to push away the vivid details of the dream.  I couldn’t help but feel angry at myself for having yet another dream about this guy.  It just doesn’t make any sense.  I have this great boyfriend who loves me and wants to marry me, yet I’m dreaming about another guy.  What makes it worse is that there is no good reason for it — I haven’t seen him or heard from him in years now.  Things between us were never really all that romantic.  It was more platonic than anything.  Well, that’s not entirely true.

We were friends — I would have classified us as “great friends” at the time.  We had dated, yes, but it never really worked out.  But there was always this sort of connection between us.  We just got along so well, had some things in common, and I think we were just really physically attracted to each other.  He confused me in the most aggravating ways.  I think what it really boiled down to was that while we were different, we were really very similar on certain levels.  We are both intelligent, educated people who found interest in common things.  Neither one of us had a picture-perfect family life.  His parents were split up, his mom remarried.  From what I could understand at the time, his relationship with his dad was strained.  I was just this girl he met when we were 12, and I was emotionally scarred.  I’d lost my mom and I’d moved to another state to live with my own version of a blended family.  Perhaps he felt the need to identify with me on those traits we shared.  I know he cared for me.  I was attracted to his drive, his ambition.  I don’t know why he was attracted to me.  The really great thing was that even though a romantic relationship never came to fruition, we remained friends all through high school.  Then we went off to college.

I saw him twice in those years after graduation.  Both times I could feel something in my heart for him.  Perhaps it was just a little bit of leftover crush, never having been absorbed over time.  I thought he felt something for me, but I’ll never really know.  Nothing ever happened to cement my suspicions, and we moved on.

But now, in the years that have followed yet another graduation, more time passing since the last time we spoke, I’ll dream of him.  I’ve tried to pin down some common denominators:  Has someone mentioned him?  (No.)  Have I been thinking about him?  (No.)  Did something remind me of him?  (No.)  There doesn’t seem to be any factors that could lead to the dreams.  Sometimes it happens when I’m mad at B.  (I was last night.)  Other times it happens when things are going great with B.  (Those are the times I feel the guiltiest.)  But it just doesn’t make sense.

Deep down inside, I don’t feel any sort of romantic feelings toward him anymore.  They disappeared a long time ago.  Mostly it was my doing — pushing them away because I knew that nothing could ever come of it.  I’m more in love with my boyfriend now than I ever have been, which makes the dreams all the more troubling.  They make me feel like the worst girlfriend in the world.  I know it’s not my fault.  I know I can’t help what happens in my brain while I sleep…

…but I just wish they would stop.

Breathe in, breathe out

I think I should clarify for some of my readers a vital detail related to yesterday’s post about the bad dream. 

 My father passed away 3 years ago.  So to dream about that scenario wasn’t upsetting in the sense that he’s already gone, so what more can happen?  The combination of what the dream decoder said, along with the fact that I tend to dream about him from time to time, was enough to stir me up.  Most of the time, I dream that my father is alive again — that we’re doing typical things together like having dinner or visiting with family.  That night was the first time I’ve had a bad dream about my father. 

Once, when I was about 10 years old, two years after my mom passed away, I had a dream about her.  We were standing on opposite ends of a long tunnel.  She was surrounded by bright white light, and no matter how long or fast I walked towards her, she never got any closer.  Her mouth was moving, silent words I’ll never hear.  I used to think it was her trying to communicate with me, through my dreams.  The older I got, the less and less I would dream about her.

Now I just dream about my father.

Once, about a year ago, I woke up after a particularly pleasant dream about him.  And for a split second, I had forgotten that he was gone.  But then, the realization came rushing forward, and grief overwhelmed me. 

I don’t particularly think that my nightmare was trying to tell of future events.  But maybe it was just a stark reminder that I am without parents in this world, and that I am missing out on so much because of that.  In my day to day life, I don’t feel any different from anyone else I know.  It’s when holidays like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day roll around that I get to remembering and feeling down. 

I’ve always wanted my parents to try to communicate with me, in some way.  I might totally sound crazy right now (and hey, I don’t blame you for judging) but I just really would like to go visit a psychic.  Part of me wonders why my father hasn’t tried to reach out to me, but the other part of me would be terrified to even THINK about such a notion.  Yes, it’s just my father, but it’s a ghost all the same.  But I wish he would send me some kind of message, sometime.

B had an unusual experience a couple of weeks ago.  He got off from work early, and he was tired, so he took a nap on the couch.  He was sleeping soundly with our cat on his lap, when she jumped up and hissed, running off down the hall.  He explained that when he opened his eyes, there was the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke around him.  Neither of us smokes and we don’t allow anyone to smoke in our house, so it freaked him out.  His mom was a chronic smoker and she died from lung cancer.  He truly believes it was her spirit that freaked the cat out, which also explains the smell of cigarette smoke.  In a strange way, the whole experience comforted him.  He said he felt as though she was watching over him.

I don’t know, maybe I sound crazy, but I believe that things like that are possible.

Foreboding

The night before last, I had a deeply troubling dream.  One that caused me to actually cry while I was sleeping.  It was terrifying, upsetting, and way too vivid.  On the suggestion of a fellow blogger I visited Dream Moods to see what it could tell me about the possible meaning.  Below is what I experienced in my dream.  The meaning of the dream tells of a deeply troubling prospect.

Driving alone in my car, I’m agitated, highly upset, and shaky.  My hands tremble as I pick up the directions, unsure of where it is I’m going.  When I arrive, I know what I am there for, but my legs are so heavy that I can barely walk up the steps to the aging building.  The sign out front simply states MORGUE. 

When I walk inside, it is quiet and I can smell the formaldehyde, and my stomach churns.  Suddenly I feel very lightheaded and close to throwing up.  But I carry on, continuing up the countless steps to the landing at the top of the second floor. 

There are three doors in front of me.  The center door is closed.  I approach the first door, all the way to the left, and what I see is frightening.  Body after body after body, lined up on cold metal tables, covered with white sheets.  But I can see the toe tags.  I quickly walk away from the room, calling out “Hello?  Is anyone here?”  I cross my fingers that no one will answer and I just can just leave and pretend that this has never happened.  Unfortunately, a woman comes out of the third door, all the way to the right, and she has a grave look on her face.

“You must be [CP].  Are you ready to identify the body?” she asks.

I fidget and play with my fingers, wringing my hands together.  “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

She leads me into the third room, crossing the floor to a lone refridgerator-the kind you’d find in any standard kitchen.  She turns to me, sighs, and says “It might not be your father, after all.  But please, brace yourself as this is not going to be pleasant.  The…body…evidently experienced some massive sort of trauma.”

I hold my breath, closing my eyes for a split second, willing it to not be my father. 

When she opens the door, she reaches in and pulls out only a head.  At first glance, I can tell that it is indeed, unfortunately, my father.  I cry out.  A scream like nothing I’ve experienced before in my life escapes me.  I turn around and begin to yell.

“What is the meaning of this?  It is my father, but it doesn’t look like him!  What has happened?” I demand.

She just stares at me with a pathetic expression, holding his soft, silvery hair in her fingers.  His mouth is gaped open, a look of abject horror frozen on his face.  His eyes are closed, as if he is sleeping, dreaming, somewhere else far far away from this place.

The woman has no answers for me, only questions.  Questions that I am too sad to answer.

“I…  I have to leave,” I muster.

I run out the room, down the hallway, flying down the steps two or three at a time.  I start to cry uncontrollably, unable to keep it in any longer.  I have to get out of this place, this hell, right away.  Upon approaching the front door, two men and a woman sit at a round table, and they are laughing.  When they see me, they become quiet and start to cry.

I run to my car, turn it on, and throw it into gear.  Then I fly out of the driveway in reverse as fast as I can without looking back at the place that has ruined my life, forever. 

That’s when I woke up.  Chest heaving, sobs actually escaping from me, tears rolling down my cheek like miniature freight trains.  I realize it has only been a dream nightmare.  I wipe away the tears, too tired to get out of bed to grab tissues.  I feel exhausted, as though I had really been running away from something. 

I moved B’s arm and crawled into the space between his arm and his heart.  I layed there, praying for it to stop.  I prayed that I could fall asleep and not have anymore dreams that night.  And I didn’t.

When I searched for morgue on the website, this is what I had to see:

Morgue

To dream that you are in a morgue and looking for someone,

foretells shocking and dreadful news of the death of a relative or close friend.

To dream that there are many corpses in the morgue,

denotes much grief and trouble for you.