I know it's basically becoming a motif of my blog to write about dreams I've had, but this one was a little more interesting than others of late.
What happened? I cried. I cried unlike I had ever cried before. I cried into my mom's shirt, about everything. Everything that's been happening for so long. About the heartbreak, about the isolation, about the feelings of futility and uselessness. Absolutely anything that has weighed on my mind in the last three years, poured out in saline.
I woke up in the middle of this dream. I expected there to be moisture on my face: streams, rivers, something. But there wasn't. There was no indication I'd cried at all in the middle of the night. In fact, when I woke up, I didn't even want to cry at all. I felt... nothing.
Not nothing, I guess. I don't know what I feel. It feels like there's a coolness in the back of my head. Like when you feel like you're about to crack up laughing, only I don't feel like laughing at all.
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4 comments:
What about huggles? Feel like have summa doze?
...
*huggles nonetheless*
Thanks.
Do you think you should have felt something? It certainly sounds like you didn't lack for emotion in the dream.
I can think of a couple of ways to armchair-analyze your situation, but in the end, it comes down to how do you want to deal with what you are going through, not my best guess for what is going through your mind.
Do you have people in real life who you can vent to? It's possible to feel isolated even when surrounded by friends and loved ones.
Hmm. I keep trying to think of something pithy or profound to say to make you feel better but the best I can come up with is: You are in my thoughts and I wish you well. I only know you through what you have chosen to reveal here and on youtube, but nevertheless you seem like a good soul who is going through some rough times. All I can offer is my hope that you feel better and my assurance that while pleasure is temporary, so is pain.
The internet is a strange thing. I am far more invested in your well being than I am in my roommate's. Once again, I hope that my sentiments are not too odd given that we've only briefly communicated through this blog.
Feel better,
Andrew
Dammit! How could I forget Stephen Fry? He always makes me feel better. Especially the letter he wrote to his sixteen year old self: http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2009/apr/30/stephen-fry-letter-gay-rights
Hope you like it.
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