What dreams are made of

What dreams are made of

What dreams are made of

I really hate nightmares. The older I get the more of a psychological mind fuck they become. It’s not just ‘oh I’ve got a fear of spiders’ it’s moved on to ‘oh your irrational fear of death coincides nicely with your break up and the loss of people you cared about in the aftermath, let’s roll with it.’ And it’s all going to play out an hour before I have to get up for work. That way it will be a fresh and distressful start to my morning.

Basically, last night I had a dream I was having severe heart palpitations. Convinced I was having a heart attack and was going to die I demanded a piece of paper for which to write a letter to my ex boyfriend’s father, who always seemed very fond of me. I demanded whoever I was with deliver the letter so he could know how much I appreciated him while said ex and I were together.

Then I wake up and it’s about 6 am and no amount of tossing and turning and smothering my head under the pillow will make this little gray cloud of loss dissipate. I loved how much his father loved me…and then I go on Facebook later to discover that he defriended me, which was not something he did the last time the ex and I broke up. The loss and rejection just keep piling up like so many dead bodies during the Bubonic Plague.

I don’t think I dream anymore…my brain replays monotonous activities and then likes to enact worst case scenario situations on occasion, and that’s about it. Screw you too, brain, and all your grey matter.