i woke up this morning with one of the worst cases of the blues that i've ever had in a long time. this was due mostly to a pair of horrific dreams that i had, right in a row.
the first one was scary, not in that it was particularly gory or suspensful, just in that it felt so real. even though, i know that everyone has had them before, myself included, but it never ceases to be totally offputting when an alternate reality feels so... non-alternate.
anyway, in it i was back in New York and I was still with Heather- except that she had slept with someone and gotten pregnant- and some how, without my knowledge, given birth to said child. i remember feeling such a profound feeling of sorrow and betrayal. at one point she let me hold the baby and i remember being so angry at how beautiful it was. holding it in my arms and seeing this miracle of life sleeping soundly and feeling like it was supposed to be MY miracle of life. i gave back the baby, sobbed for a while and then, overcome with a rage that i've never actually felt in my non-dream lifetime, i began to destroy everything i could get my hands on. turning over tables, punching holes in walls, cutting up my knuckles real good on various glass fixtures.
like i've said, i've never actually experienced this kind of anger in my real life but it felt so real, so genuine, so visceral that when i woke up, it actually took me a minute to realize where i was- that it had all been a dream- there was no baby, i'm not in new york- heather is far far away in florida enjoying her life and excited about what it has in store (i'm sure).
still, it deeply upset me.
nevermind that the actual practicality of it all is pretty impossible. where was i during the 9 months of her being pregnant? where was i when she gave birth? how did all that slip past me? in the reality of the dream it didn't really even matter who the other guy was, it was more the principal of it i suppose that got me so mad.
anyway, after that i went back to sleep and had a dream about being tortured by some crazy old man who kept giving me pills that paralyzed me, tied me to a bed and kept telling me about how he was preparing to "operate" on me and showing me all kinds of scary tools he planned to implement in my torture. eventually i broke free and tried to hit him with a bench but was too weak to lift it. he started to laugh at me. then i woke up.
weird. i wonder what these dreams would say about me and my psychological neurosis? probably something about being gay i'm sure.