gonna explain that title. i don't know how easily. i'm feeling conflicted today, and the image of a number line from the 'old' math classes came into my head. change is coming. maybe not good. definitely not pleasant.
some details will be explicit, because i need them for clarity. some will be non-specific, because i have to post this up for access and i am not going to have people feeling maligned for being directly identified. that's the way it goes.
let's start from two nights ago. i had a dream, about the murder of a former boss, some surreal elements of Shaq chasing a snake, and two lesbian friends from Columbus coming to see the murder scene, one of them lusting after a lesbian that i know here, and the three of us ending up in bed watching television. that was two nights ago.
last night, i'd talked to R through the day. told her i'd call her back before i shut down for the night. when i called her, her phone picked up, and i was privileged to a conversation she was having about me to her children. about what i'd done with the apartment and Syd, and about how i left all that so i could build my empire. i didn't listen long before i said 'hello?', at which time there was a brief silence and the phone hung up.
i got a call back a while later, telling me that she hadn't meant to answer, she was on her calculator and accidentally picked up. she asked why i was still up, told her i was in the process of sleeping and was about to go back to sleep.
when i texted her 'good morning' today, there was no affection attached. just told her i'd be by at 9 to pick her up for our trip to Ravenna. i called about 815 or so to ascertain she was woke. i was troubled, though. i was not functioning well at all. part of it was the dream i'd had last night.
some dreams are so real that they remain disturbing for days after you have them. i have dreams that are sometimes portents, though i know that sounds like some psychic mumbo-jumbo. i can tell you this, however: every dream i've ever remembered has had a significance to the life i was about to start living. every one. and one tarot card reading, but that's a different story. i had a dream once of being stung to death by a swarm of bees, and it was a dream about a woman i was seeing who was doing a lot of foul shit behind my back. this dream was, in its own way, worse.
i had a dream that my penis simply fell off. no blood, no violence, no pain, no arteries or veins. just plopped off, much to my surprise and chagrin. i picked it up, put it in my jacket pocket (old style windbreaker) and trotted off to find a doctor to reattach it. i ended up on the east side, by the old bargain port which is now a flea market. then i was in one of my old neighborhoods, and i ran across an old acquaintance's children, twin girls, who were glad to see me and said their mother had told them i no longer wanted to be bothered with them. i didn't throw the mom, a RF from a lifetime ago, feels like now, but i did say that wasn't true and i was very happy to see them. but when i saw their mother coming out of their house, i turned and walked away, angry because she had lied to her children about me. i never did find a hospital or doctor. the dream ended with me waking confused and making certain my penis was still attached (of course).
the ride to Ravenna was mostly silence. R started, getting in the car, saying that first off she was apologizing; that she shouldn't be discussing my business with her children, and she shouldn't be entertaining her children's opinions about my business. i said nothing until we were on the highway. i asked her, because it was what i was feeling most, if she thought my plan was stupid. she said she didn't think it was stupid; she felt it hadn't been well thought out. i told her that her talking to her children didn't bother me so much as hearing her talking about my plans, hearing her tone, or content, whichever it was, made me feel she thought the plan was stupid, made me think maybe my plan WAS stupid. i told her i'd had a bad dream, but not what it was. something told me that was not a good idea. i told her i accepted her apology, to not worry about it.
we finished the trip in silence. she'd make small talk, i'd respond, and we'd return to silence. i dropped her back at home. i went back to my parent's house. i got some taco bell, ate lunch and talked to Lonnie about the whole thing, processing what i could. then i took a nap. i had dinner when i got up, watched some television, i rode with my dad to attempt to fix a leak at our old house, his rental property, and i just finished sweeping and mopping the floor. its after 10. i did call R, but got no answer, not surprising. i only called because i know i don't want to be angry, and i don't want to be hurt. hurt moreso. but the thing is, why?
hence, the number line. see, R is a lot of things. she has never said she was going to be 100 percent available. but she tries. she's never said she would be motivated to help me. but she's tried. she is what she is; depressed, escapist, anxious, but kind, sweet and in truth amazing in her creative and imaginative abilities...when she chooses to access them. the truth is, i love her. but i've never asked her for anything. i can say these things here. i've done all i can to help her, not to curry favors, but to offer an example of support out of love. when you love someone, you do for them. i support her. emotionally and mentally. i THOUGHT she supported me. i THOUGHT she believed in what i was trying to accomplish. i don't even personally think that everything i've done has been meticulously thought out. i just pray, look at options, make decisions and attempt to live with the decisions i make, knowing tomorrow there will be a whole new set of decisions to consider. so i wouldn't sit now and say, yeah, i'm so sure this path is right. i live with anxiety every day. i fight with my ego telling me this is one more failure EVERY DAY. i fight with the growing notion that checking out would be the right thing to do, EVERY DAY. i am back among my primary demons, they are alive and well here. i help my parents and they both balk every step of the way. family issues abound. its not my job to fix shit, and i can't fix anything. but it is my duty, my responsibility, to deal with what i can. it is weighty. and the only respite has been the work of writing, of trying to build something that will pay off one day.
i don't require her belief. i will continue on, with or without her. but i am sad to know that i can be casually tossed about, in what sounded like condescending tones, to her children, who are insulting and indifferent to her most days. like i'm a chip on the table she's playing to try to stay in the game for her children's respect. and that's not going to get it.
i would like a good night's sleep. i'd like to not dream. i'd like to not remember. but still, the trip was successful, the next step has been taken and i'm moving toward starting this new job at the end of April. i am grateful for the provisions from my God. and the rest is temporary anyway.
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