I wish that I had an answer.
When I woke up I knew that I wasn’t immediately returning to sleep. The dream was so unusual I couldn’t help but to wonder if it had something to do with not drinking for 5 days now and not smoking for 24 hours. I checked my Twitter time line for some comfort because that’s what people do in the middle of the night when they live at least 2 hours from their closest acquaintance and broke up with their boyfriend a week ago.
I really could have used a fucking hug.
A friend did chat me up for a while, got me talking a bit about the dream that I had but he had to go, as most people do when they live in different time zones, humans don’t simply exist to meet my needs.
So I thought what is the point of having a blog if I can’t write whatever I want on it?
I usually reserve it for poetic musings and story shards but I suspect tonight it will be used to share a dream. Or at least as much of it as I can remember. The longer I type about other things the more of it I forget.
I went into the restroom to read my mantras on the mirror. I wrote them there to remind me that I am trying to become clean and sober. My new glass scale came from Amazon today so I figured now would be as good a time as any to step on it.
3 lbs heavier than I was at my heaviest 18 months ago. I’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of me. I’m not even sure if I can handle it.
I poured myself a tall glass of 7 UP- its the only thing in the house that I can use to mentally simulate the feel of a cold crisp beer. I found an old menthol cigarette in a money case my aunt gave me; I had bought the pack when I was in Florence this summer at a Farmacia on the street where I stayed- no idea why I saved it.
I wish that I were there now.
I’m going to smoke this old ass cigarette, maybe it will be disgusting and remind me why I am quitting and drink this syrup water and tell you what happened.
Sometimes just telling makes you feel better all together.

My Twitter friend is back offering methaqualone or oxycodone to calm my nerves.

No one understands me at all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * ** * *
The dream, like many as of late centers around my ex boyfriend. Not my most recent ex from a couple of weeks ago but my ex from 10 years ago. It’s funny to call him my ex, as long as I loved him, and he me, we never seriously dated, exclusively. But that is a different tale. Let’s just say his name was Aaron for the purposes of sharing this dream.
Any way, on one particular visit to Indiana from Las Vegas to see Aaron, around 2007, we went to the Art Museum and had lunch and I was completely frustrated that I wasn’t able to go to visit his house. At the time, his ex wife still lived there. I had imagined what his house must have been like and that thought was the first thing that I recognized in the dream.
I was in my version of his house that I had imagined. I had finally made it to the inside of his home. The entire house was dark, like it was the middle of the night or before 6 AM in the winter. The door was open and I just walked in, like I knew the lay of the place and found him in his bedroom, lying atop shredded gray sheets, lightly sleeping.

All of these people, who appeared vaguely familiar, also draped in shredded gray sheets slowly appeared from the shadows, carrying boxes of party supplies. They were going to decorate some other place but were taking the decorations to that location from this house. I felt like I needed to help so I asked my ex, Aaron, what can I do to help them?
He opened his eyes and smiled at me.
All I wanted to do was to climb into that bed with him, and lie on his chest and join him in sleep. His arms around me, listening to him breathe but I couldn’t- too many people around, bustling. And he didn’t ask me to. I have to be asked.
I should have known from his smile that this dream, much like our relationship was a set up but I figured that must have been why he asked me there. He said nothing and rolled over to finish his nap.
I walked out to assist the people but they acted as if they didn’t see me, scurrying around asking each other where are the streamers? Where is the tape? Who is grabbing the glasses?
As soon as I would try to pick up a box, someone, looking like a lost Droog, dressed like a porn zombie, would swoop in and grab the box before I could reach it. They gathered all of their supplies in Aaron’s living room and decided that it was time for a drug break before we went to the other location. Everyone had a full glass of something bubbly, or was smoking a joint or taking a pill. I sat on the floor and watched. A guy on the couch dressed in a gray toga with a long beard, had a vial of something red and squeezed a little of the liquid from the vial under his tongue. I looked at him and he leaned over and poured some under my tongue as well. It was the only moment in the dream that I felt accepted there. As soon as I stood up to find another box, the crowd closed these surgical looking drapes around themselves in the living room, shutting me out completely.

I could over hear them talking about bills and being hungry and not being sure if they could pay their rents. I peeked through the curtain and the toga man was standing, taping up a box and saw me and at the top of his lungs he screamed at me CLOSE THE FUCKING CURTAIN!

I did.
I hate being yelled at.
They all started laughing and closing the boxes and leaving and I was afraid I was going to be left behind. I gathered by watching them walk across the lawn that the party was taking place in a shabby apartment building across the street. It looked like it had been converted from an old office building from the 70’s.
The house front door was open, and Aaron was dressed in all black now with black boots on. He was ushering people out of the door and told me to come on and as soon as I was by his side his fiancee showed up. No one was expecting her to be home to attend the party and as they left they all squealed with excitement to see her. I was not excited because I know that she pretends to like me since he and I are still friends but I am confident that she does not in actuality. I smile at her and echo their sentiment, I’m so glad she was able to make it. She tells Aaron that she is extremely exhausted from her shift and that she doesn’t want to go. She is just going to go to bed. She too is dressed like a 70’s throw back, wearing a cashier’s uniform from That 70’s show. Her hair is longer than it was when I saw her last, but in that ugly stage; you know, when its not long enough for a pony tail quite yet but I can tell she had tried to pin it up. It was fire red which was unusual but not something that I would put past her. She was one of those incredibly beautiful people, the kind who can be manic depressive but that gets overshadowed by how attractive they are. I’m sure that I would have slept with her if she had ever asked me to. He told her it was fine if she didn’t come, since I was there and she glared through me.
If looks could kill I would have died in my own dream.

Suddenly she had the energy and Aaron and all of the others left. I told him as he was leaving that I would wait for her in case she had some last minute items to grab.
She locked the door and we walked across the grass to the other building but the entire time she sang. She kept singing snippets from songs like “The Girl Is Mine”- although she said Boy… And “Hopelessly Devoted To You” and “ I’ve had the time of my Life”. She was singing the words like she was angry and explaining to me that I stood no chance. I understood.
There was a couch in the other location and by the time she and I arrived it was fully decorated like NYE in the Bronx in a back alley. My second cousin, who I have always thought was the most beautiful woman I had ever actually known was sitting on that couch, wearing a pale powder blue prom dress. She looked immaculate and out of place. I hadn’t spoken to her in years since she came out as a lesbian and her prom dress looked like something Carrie would have worn.
But it also looked like a powder blue dress I had in my closet that I wore to an award’s show in California in 2008. She also looked as if she were coked out of her mind, staring off into space. I sat at her feet because I wanted to knew who she knew at this party other than me but it was nice for a second to have her there because I temporarily stopped feeling alone. She wouldn’t respond to me as if she was in a trance. She couldn’t take her eyes off the television which I knew that she was watching because I could see the flicker of the screen on her face.

I turned around and much like the style of the Rocky Horror Picture show, all of the friends of Aaron and his girl were standing behind the TV, dressed like the characters from the movie The Wiz, performing the songs in time with the characters in the movie on the TV. But none of them were black; they all just had on face paint and afros. The wall was glowing orange around them and the room felt warm.
Aaron and his fiancee had disappeared into the shadows and I was just sitting on the floor, surrounded by drunks and play actors singing, crouched next to my cousin who acted as if she didn’t know me from Adam. I could feel myself crying so I woke up.

The 7UP was too sugary and that old Italian cigarette tasted like air freshener. I have no idea what any of it means and I could still go for that fucking hug.


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