Not your standard issue late twenty-something's blog.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

The wisdom of Deborah Gibson

Although I sleep supremely poorly at my dad's apartment . .. for many reasons: it's the same four-poster I grew up with (memories of barely pubescent humping of said poles abound as well as my earliest attempts at rather painful intercourse) and said bed has a brand new and shockingly hard mattress . .. Dad's poodle, Mr. Brown has taken to spooning me . . .

point being, in spite of these factors, I had really nice dreams last night.

I dream, almost every night, of my ex-boyfriend and our mutual ex-friend who set us up. As far as I know, they're still friends and I haven't heard from either of them in over six months. Losing them at around the same time was a double blow that sent me into the throes of depression. Even now, realizing that they're both douchebags, I recognize that they were a big part of my life for a couple years and it still amazes me how much life can change. And what dicks people can be.

Last night, in my dreams, they begged for my forgiveness and said and did all the right things. My ex, who in life was obese with shocking quantities of back hair, was svelte, well dressed and articulate. Swore that he hadn't dumped me for anyone else. No one could ever take my place. The former friend promised to quit working on her own pathetic drivel to fully support any artistic endeavor of mine. Her friends, who in life also dumped me, swore the same. Can you ever forgive us, Kath?

I woke up happy. Even after I realized it was all a dream and the daily thought crossed my mind that NYC is far too small a place for me not to run into and be reminded of every person I've had some dealing with, good or bad, in the last five years . . . it gave me hope that, perhaps in sleep (the cure-all) our hearts, like everything else, have time to repair. To mend. That just as nightmares can fuck with our heads long after we wake, good dreams can do the same. I may never have peace or closure from those who have hurt me but I can move forward wiser, albeit embittered, into other friendships, relationships and value the good ones I have that have withstood the test of time.

Fuck, I'm tired, though.


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