11.22.2008 sleep

The first night of fitful sleep featured a reunion with Dwayne - hardly surprising, not just because I miss him, but also because his mom was the receptionist for my surgeon at the height of my cancer treatments. She was the first person to see me enter the clinic for each appointment, and the last person we talked to when my mother settled the bill.

Of course I didn't recognize him when we met as adults. It took a few years of singing together before we were lounging around half dressed at a lingerie-and-glasses breakfast for me to figure out that he was the cute boy who worked at the record store next to my high school. My best friend would drag me over there so she could stare at him while I sighed and looked through the albums.

Oh, memories....

What did we do in the dream? We sat around talking, even though he is widely acknowledged to be smoking hot. See, even my sub-conscious is overly concerned with propriety.

Last night I was feeling better physically but that is when I always freak out (the fact that the pain was located directly under the six inch scar on my lower right abdomen did not help matters).

For the most part, I did not sleep, though when I managed to drift off near dawn I experienced a paranoid mixed up return to the Seattle house, which as you may recall was located at the top of the Beacon Hill crack staircase. This was fine with me when it was my daily reality - but my neighbors were always spying on strangers and each other. Those antics caused me way more anxiety than dealing with the whores and junkies.

I did not know Mark Mitchell when we lived in the same city, but happily he turned up in the dream with some houseplants and caustic comments. We sat on the porch mocking the neighbors until my alarm cut off the festivities at 6:30am.

The interesting thing to me is that nobody I've ever slept with (in the carnal sense) shows up in my dreams, or in most aspects of real life, when I actually need tending.

Sarah moved away, depriving me of my only local source of Ladychat to ponder this kind of question. But when I decided to have "emotions" and "share" a year or two ago I asked someone who has known me since my wicked youth why the people who claim to fall in love with me vanish when something goes seriously awry. They lurk around for years after I break their hearts, hoping for a reconciliation or at least sex, lavishing me with attention and hilarious adventures. But they are never present in my dreams, and only rarely show up in my hospital room.

The answer: Because you would never be attracted to anyone who would take care of you the way you should be looked after. Oh no. You think chaos is hot. Just look at [long list of thugs, thieves, liars, and killers, though only one rapist]. In fact, you married the two craziest people you could find. Why did you ever bother dating? You would have been better off moving to Kansas and kissing a tornado!

Two hours of sleep over three consecutive nights does not translate to a positive, optimistic view of the world. If only I could take naps!

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