early this morning in which I had cornered the Scrub someplace and told him exactly why I was pissed off at him. Why he hurt me. In the dream, I told him I realized I was not so special to him. That what he'd done to me, he'd done to people in his life more important to him than me. I knew that my pain didn't make me special.
In my dream I could sense his distance, that me telling him these things was really only to my benefit; that it wouldn't make him go "Oh, I get it and I'm sorry" and MEAN it, and more importantly it wouldn't change his life or the way he did things.
And then I woke up... realizing that I had been in a VERY deep sleep, awaking into full consciousness the way you come up for air after diving in a cold pool.
The contrast between the crispness of my dream and the reality of my undersea blue room and my double bed and the BigMan snoring softly beside me was arresting. I didn't want to go back to sleep to finish the dream... the dream had been completed as I awoke... which is unusual.
I didn't wake up crying. I didn't wake up ashamed of dreaming of him with BigMan next to me.
I did have a mild feeling of annoyance that this still bothers me, but then it changed to curiosity... why now, two years later? Why so clear? A lot of times dreams are metaphors for other things in your life... you wake up from a dream full of symbolism (like the dream I had about the dead fish tank) but knowing vaguely what the dream is about. And when I have those dreams I sift through the symbolism to figure out what my subconscious is telling me. But this was different. There were no vague messages. It was very clearly me, and very clearly him in a space (white, ironically) and me telling him in my own everyday words in my own voice what I had to say.
Most interestingly, I didn't wake up with a need to make the dream a reality. I still see the Scrub frequently and have pretty much stopped acknowledging his presence except where absolutely necessary. There is no animosity on my part; I just decided he no longer deserved to live in my world.
The only thing I can think of that would have triggered it is that I came home from dropping the kid off from school yesterday. It was an interesting morning filled with interesting conversations in which people's own issues were playing into situations that affect other people. I had three different, equally draining conversations with people in which their own issues so clearly figured into the shit that was going on with them that by the time I came home I was drained.
I'd met BigMan on the train ride home (he'd done an IT job downtown) and when we came back to the house, well, we had an interlude. Which is unusual for us just because most times we sit here in my living/work room, backs to each other, doing our own thing. I told him I loved him, and he asked me why... and I told him "because you're my friend. A real friend." My ride-or-die... He hugged me and told me that most people didn't really appreciate the true meaning of "friend." And very briefly and mostly subconsciously I remembered that what had hurt me most about the Scrub was that I had thought we could be friends. And then I didn't think about that or him the rest of the day. And wouldn't have remembered that thought if I hadn't had the dream.
But BigMan is what I had been looking for, my ride-or-die, my groundwire. The Sun and I presented him with a key to the apartment the other day, and he actually blushed. And hasn't left the apartment to go home since...
....so wow... no posts for a month and then two in a day...