I’m writing this because it needs to be written. I have no illusions as to the interest of others in my process. If it was entirely up to me this won’t be published. Yet, why am I writing it here if I don’t want anyone to see it? Ego, friends, the driver of the careening death trap that is my life. It preserves me, but it will kill me by and by.
I had a bad night sleep last night. Trying to come off sleep medications is a hell of a thing. The interesting thing is that after one of the times I woke up, turned over, and went back to sleep, I didn’t go back to sleep. I dreamed, though it might have been the closest thing I get to a nightmare. These things end up being instructive on my feelings on how life is going, given my lack of apparent affect regarding such things in my waking life.
I had a dream, and in that dream suddenly for no understandable reason, I stopped owning the house I live in, and moved into a bigger house, in a neighborhood that I’ve never been to, and a floorplan that seemed to change as the dream went on. Dream analysis was one of my hobbies in school, thus the dreams of a dream analyst tend to be quite literal. I’m feeling displaced, adrift, alone. Obvious enough on the surface, but deeper in it looks like I don’t feel properly equipped, like I’m playing a game that I still don’t know the rules of.
Somewhere mid dream, I started to pick at the parts that didn’t make sense. This is a nervous tick of mine, a way that I look for the exit when a dream frightens me. Like, where did the money go to pay all the fees of selling and buying a house? How did all of my things get there? Why did I not, as has been my stated desire, buy a piece of land in the middle of nowhere and some form of shelter? The end state me didn’t meet up with a me I thought I was, which I think speaks to a deeper unsettling, lost even to my own desires.
Anyway, woke up and as has been true for the last twelve years, I was trapped in a house that is more than I can deal with, in a city I dislike, waiting for some sort of liberation. It isn’t coming, to be clear. I’m waiting for it, because I’ve run out of hope. I’m actually waiting to die, but people get all up in arms when you say that. Say you are seeking freedom, everybody is fine with that.