Dreams, Again. Good Ones.

I’m sitting here in my sisters living room, sipping on a cup of coffee, with not much on my mind this morning. I slept well last night, even though I woke up a couple times, I got back to sleep. I couldn’t go sit outside this morning, because although it’s a beautiful morning, everything is soaked. I guess there must have been some dense fog earlier. It’s still humid and summerlike out, but not too hot. Love it….

I had some dreams and decided to look them up. One was about a letter I was trying to send to someone. I just remember seeing the envelope, but I’m not even sure who it was to. Dreammoods does not address under letters sending a completed letter, only writing one. I assume there is someone there I still have things to say to. But don’t know who it is, so I’ll let it go.

Another dream was about windows, 4 windows in a room, with the wood frame painted a different color on each, bright primary colors. They were big windows. That turns out to be kind of cool…Here’s what they said about windows and primary colors.

To see a window in your dream signifies bright hopes, vast  possibilities and insight. The size of the window is reflective of your outlook; a small window suggests that you tend to not get your hopes up too high when good things happen, while a large window symbolizes your openness to new experiences.

Colors in dreams represent energy, emotions, and vibes. First consider what that single color in your dream means to you and your own personal associations and relationship with that color. In general, pale pastel colors indicate weakness or subtlety. Dark colors represent passion and intensity. Bright colors mean awareness.

I like that…I am open to new experiences, true! And that I have some insight and awareness, well, that’s like my quest anyway.

Then I dreamed I had a big blister on my leg, maybe 2” in diameter, that was bleeding around the edges, but I managed to get it to stop.

To dream that you have a blister indicates that some minor annoyance or problem is draining your energy and time.

To dream that you are bleeding or losing blood signifies that you are suffering from exhaustion or that you are feeling emotionally drained. It may also denote bitter confrontations between you and your friends.

To see your legs in your dream indicate that you have regained confidence to stand up and take control again. It also implies progress and your ability to navigate through life. To dream that your leg is broken, wounded or crippled signifies a lack of balance, autonomy, or independence in your life.

The only minor annoyance I can think of is the conversation I had with that quasi-friend the other night. It did leave me feeling emotionally drained, but I think the fact that the blister and bleeding were on my leg, shows that this interaction did upset me but that I am in control of my life and emotions.  Since I stopped the bleeding,I will interpret it all to be over and done with, and that I am not losing any sleep over it. Feeling in control of my own life. I feel confident and happy. And really….it was a minor annoyance anyway. Not major.

I’m happy to be remembering my dreams. With dreammoods.com, I feel like I get some insight into my subconscious. I am happy to know that what the emotions and actions I am manifesting through my ego, are in tune with my subconscious. It feels balanced.

My sis and I are gonna go do a little Christmas shopping this morning. That should be fun, there are lots of cool little shops around here. Going to be an awesome day.

Love and light.

Imagining Possibilities

possibilites

Maggie is home, and a little freaked out, but seems ok.  She had a bandage over where her IV was on her front leg, and luckily my cousin came by and helped me get it off of her.  I have to give her some pain medication with some food now, before I go to bed. Just so grateful that they were able to fix her problem, and I didn’t have to face that hard decision.

I have a lunch date for Saturday, with that nice man I was talking to last night.  Tonight we’re texting.  So far, I really like him.  He seems interested, you know….asks questions, seems sweet natured, very masculine though.  Is good looking too, from his pictures.  And tall, I like tall men, because I’m 5’7″.  I like men who are taller than me by a good amount.  My ex was 6’1″ or2″. Scott was 6′ I think.   We’re going to a new Mexican restaurant.  He grew up in the town I work in, but doesn’t live there now.

It’s cool, I feel like there could be a connection with this man, I sense the possibility.  Like we might like each other….maybe a lot, who knows?  It’s nice to be looking forward, for sure, not backward.

It lets me pause, to feel like a desirable woman again.  Not someone’s second choice, not rejection, not pain, not anger.  To see a path in front of me of possibilities.  Even if it’s not with this man, I am lifted into the possibilities again.  It’s nice to have someone excited to have lunch with me.  And I’m excited to have it with him.  And that’s all I need to know right now.

I don’t mean to be gushing, because I haven’t even met him yet.  It’s been 4 months since Scott and I broke up, it’s been almost 2 since I found out she’d been in his life 6 months.  I need to move on, and I’m just happy to have this chance, this little crack that might allow the light to come in, and make me glow again.

I have a gong bath tomorrow.  I love that I am going with no huge issues to deal with.  I had the twin flame thing for a few days, it was really upsetting me, but now, it’s just a part of that relationship, which is past, over….  I’m not going to try to guess when we will meet again.  It doesn’t matter, it just doesn’t matter.  He’s still got his journey, he’s always had it.  He and I are no where near the same place, and I don’t see us being in the same place in this lifetime.  My head and my heart are open to whatever happens, but I think there is a better possibility with the new guy than Scott that we will connect in this lifetime.  I wish him well, I hope he can rise, I hope all good things for him.

Happy tonight.  Think I’ll go float to bed, and see if I can dream a sweet dream for a change.

 

 

Acceptance Comes Slowly

So dawns a new day.  I still have not heard a peep from him.  I left another voicemail, I have texted him.  It is unlike him to hold a grudge with me, especially when I am so obviously trying to find my way back to him.  But this morning, acceptance is setting in.

I had a nightmare about him last night. And now I’m trying to see if I can logically understand why he is silent.  So far these are my choices.

1.  He’s still angry with me for being so hurt the other night.  He cannot stand being the bad guy.  All it  required was an “I’m sorry”. We all make mistakes, he made one in not telling me he was not going to come.  He made one in underestimating how much it meant to me.  But a heartfelt “I’m sorry” would have gone a long way.  A phone call would have been nice.

2. He read the blogs I wrote after, “Crash and Burn” and “Sifting through the smoldering ruins” and was furious.  He dislikes i when I write about him, us.  When we are published on the internet.  No one knows me, or him.  He says, “yes, but when your book is published they will know who you are, and then who I am….”  That’s still such a long shot. But I have to write about me.  I have told him any blog I write is a snapshot in time of how I am feeling at that moment.  So why don’t I just journal it, why publish?  Because when I am in pain, confused, fearful I long for feedback from my peers.  The community helps me through it, helps me not to feel so alone.  I am quite able, obviously, when my feelings change, or circumstances change, to own it, and correct it here.  I rue the day I ever gave him the link to this blog.  It puts a bracket on my freedom to write what I feel here.

3.  Maybe he is too sick to communicate with me.  I can’t know that he actually went to work yesterday.  I do know that he wasn’t in the hospital.  I do know that he didn’t die, because I checked the obits this morning.  Sounds morbid, I know, but if he had an aneurism, which could kill him instantly, I would never know, I would never be told by anyone because no one knows of me. So it was some kind of black comfort not to see his name there. Maybe he is just in too much pain to add the stress of talking to me to it.  But…he doesn’t have to talk with me.  Just to tell me how he is, in a text or an email, and then ask me to continue to leave him alone, and I will.  Just to ease my mind.

4. I have occasionally, thought, what if his ex girlfriend leaves her new husband (that she found within 4 months of breaking up with him after 12 years) and wants him back?  He told me many times he was not over her, that he thought she was the one.  I asked him not that long ago, maybe a couple months, what he would do if that happened.  He said he didn’t know.  Which didn’t help me feel secure with him at all, obviously.  There is no making sense of who we choose to love, he says he loved her, and she took him for so much…..  I just don’t know.  But it is what it is.  I mean, I still love him after all the ups and downs we have had, when it is quite obvious to me that this is not a healthy relationship.  This #4 reason leads me to the nightmare.

I dreamed he finally called me.  We were, in the dream, on the phone, but I could see him at his house as well.  He told me he was in love. His voice was odd, kind of a falsetto.  He has in reality a deep, sexy voice.  I kept asking with who?  And he just kept telling me it was real, he was finally in love. (He constantly told me he didn’t want to be in love.) Then I could see his ex girlfriend in his jacuzzi.  And I said, “tell me who it is or I’m hanging up.”  He got mad at that threat and started yelling back at me on the phone.  I hung up, I woke up.

This morning I can’t help but wonder if the universe was telling me something.  I don’t even know what to look up on dreammoods.com.  It is so unusual for me to dream about him, about anyone I know, and to remember it, though I am sure I remember it because it woke me.

So where am I at this morning?  Still  numb, thankfully, from the wine and an Ambien.  It’s nice how the two combine to knock you out on a night when you’d not have slept otherwise.  Especially after the dream.  I am accepting that I can’t do anything about his refusal to communicate.  I can call the hospitals again, and make sure he’s not there.  I considered calling his ex-wife, who doesn’t know me, and asking her to check on him.  Because I am pretty sure, that unless he goes in the hospital, he has not told his family about  his health issues either.  By family I mean ex-wife and kids. But then I think, in my best Byron Katie mind, no don’t do that.  Then you are in HIS business.  (you know, there are three kinds of business:  Mine, other peoples, and God’s)

So to try to stay in my business, only mine today, I won’t try to reach him but just let it be, as he used to tell me all the time.  Maybe he’ll be in touch when he feels up to it.  Maybe he never will be again.  My business is to go on with my life.  So, I’m going to go get my hair done, go to the grocery store, go get 2 new tires for my car and maybe talk to my ex husband about our son while they put the tires on, since his business is right next door to the tire place.  But his business is weather related and we are supposed to have a huge storm this afternoon (of course, it’s Saturday) so he might not be there.  That should keep me clear of him until tonight.

Acceptance of what you truly don’t want to have to accept is such a mind-fuck  But again, it’s reality.  He is not communicating with me, and I need to respect that is how he wants it, for whatever reason.  I can’t put too much energy into that thought, the lump in my throat begins to grow again.

Slowly taking steps to move beyond this pain.

Getting Through Betrayal, A Personal Story

When my friend from Canada sent me Reiki, she told me I gotta let the anger fire burn out.  She said it was a purification fire, and that I couldn’t deal with the hurt and pain until the fire was done burning.

What I’ve learned is that the anger, and subsequent pain, are like concentric circles.  There is the outer wave of anger, the initial one, when you find out about the betrayal.  You rage, you scream.  You want to hit something.  Your anger is visceral, it comes from so deep within you, you didn’t think you were capable of that much anger.

And then it subsides, amazingly.  You don’t know if you’re not angry anymore, or sick of being angry, or just numb.  In between each circle is a no-man’s land, a neutral space, where you have a moment to try to collect yourself.  It might last a few hours, or a few days.  But it doesn’t last.

Then you deal with the furthest out circle of pain.  You might wake up in pain.  You might lay down in your bed, and feel the knot in your stomach unravel and release the flood of tears. You might just be sitting on the couch with the tv on some show you are not watching, and the anguished cries just come from somewhere in your chest, unbidden.   You cry.  You sob, in giant heaves, that wrack your body.  You can’t sleep.  Every single thing that happens to you makes you think of him.  And that makes you think of what he did, oblivious to what it would do to you.  You think of his hands on someone else, you think about them being intimate, the way you were, and you sob again and again.  You try to numb yourself somehow so you won’t keep seeing it, feeling it.  You might drink 4 large glasses of wine that first night, you might take a sleeping pill and still barely sleep.  You can’t talk about it in this phase, you can’t even say what he did to you.  To name it is to make it real, to give it form.  You cannot.  You can’t tell anyone, you can’t say out loud what he did.

Then whenever you have sat with that for long enough you find yourself back in that thin line of the neutral place between the circles.  You think you might be ok, You realize you will live.  It will be painful, you think, but you can get out of bed, you can go to work, you can take care of things that need taking care of.  When you go to bed, it’s the hardest to face.  In bed alone, remembering what it felt like when wrapped his arms around you, when he woke you in the middle of the night.  But you know you can’t share him.  So you take the pain, you feel the pain, you live with the pain.  And thankfully it dulls over time.  In the meantime, you purge him from your life.  You don’t want to look at any corner of your life and be reminded of what was, and what wasn’t.

This cycle happens a number of times.  You are angry, then hurt, then angry, then hurt.  You want answers.  You want to know why.  You want to know how he could say he cares, and then do this.  Not getting answers angers you.  Then it hurts you.  Each time the level of hurt is a little less.  Because he has no answers  You have to deal with it alone, and you are beginning to get sick of it.  Sick of having your head spin.  Sick of wondering what was really going on between you and he, sick of trying to understand.

You might talk to him, over and over.  You might want to be with him so bad, you do it.  You don’t think you can stop the pain if you don’t.  You see him, you are with him, you have some relief from the pain, but then you realize you are just setting yourself up to go through this all over again.  That thought is terrifying. So you slow down on the talking.  You don’t allow the flirting anymore, it’s like a knife cutting the wound open again.  You tell him…he might stop.  He might get mad.  He might not understand why you came to him, and then were done with him.  It gets ugly, then it gets better, but it’s a downward trend.  Pretty soon, it’s just ugly.  You stop talking altogether.

It’s ok, you think.  I’ll get over this, I’ll move on.  And it is.  For awhile.  For a day, for a week, it’s ok.  Then one night you’re driving home and you miss him.  Geezus you think, why am I missing  him???  But you are.  You imagine calling him.  You imagine him calling you.  Or showing up at your house unexpectedly.  But every time, now, you imagine it ends badly.  You never imagine that it ends well.  How can it end well?  How can you undo what has been done?  You can’t.  So  you know…you can’t go back there.  And he can’t tell you why he did it.  He cant tell you why he was willing to devastate you.  So you know that eventually, until he can speak to those things, that being with him just sets you up to repeat it.

You have to sit with your sadness.  Again.  And again.  Then your anger.  Again and again.  Until you are finally in that circle in the center.  The one that is so small that you can’t stay in it for too long.

You get asked out on a date.  You accept.  You try to look forward to it.  You DO look forward to it.  The man is nice, kind, he opens the doors for you, helps you with your coat.  He is easy-going, not pushing any agenda, just enjoys your company.  Somewhere in your head something nags at you, because it won’t be with him.  You tell the nagging to shut up, because he will only hurt you again.

Unbelievably, the nagging shuts up.

So, you sit with your sadness, until it has dissipated.  Until your soul emerges, and you begin to remember who you were before.  Before him, before the betrayal, before your world was turned upside down.

The sun comes out, you focus on your new life.  All the possibilities.  You would like to say goodbye to him, but you don’t want to start anything up.  You want to say, I’m ok.  You want him to know you’re ok, that he didn’t kill you, even though you thought for awhile he did.  You know that the possibilities are endless.  Life is  good again.

In the Beginning, and In the End

I write, that’s what I do, it’s how I work things out.  So when I am in a relationship I write about it.  I wrote this first poem in the beginning, about S.  But the end, so far, does not seem poetic to me.  It has not inspired me to write poetry to get through it.  I am through it and happy about it, but it doesn’t seem to deserve poetry to me. It was an ugly betrayal.  It shook me to the very core to find out who he really was.

Still, I thought, I would publish these two poems.  The second is not about the ending but was about another moment in the relationship when I thought it was over.   Just a beginning and an ending.

I Would Be Happier

For the first time in many many years
Decades maybe.
Decades definitely.
I think,
I would be happier if he were here.

That scares me.
It scares him.
But it’s true, all the same.
Scared or not.
I would be happier if he were here.

In the morning having my coffee.
I sit outside
I listen as the world wakes up.
I am happy.
I feel the connection to all the earth.
I close my eyes.
I breathe in the scent of the early morning.
I contemplate.
I clear my mind.
I am happy.

Yet,
I would be happier if he were here.

I go through my day.
He calls.
I am happy.
That he called
That I am having a good, easy day.
That he is thinking of me.
Because I cannot stop thinking of him.
We talk, we both flirt a little.
I am happy.

Yet,
I would be happier if he were here.

I get home.
I clean up my kitchen.
I idly check my phone
To see if I missed a message.
I did not.
I go outside.
I sip a glass of wine.
A cool breeze blows through my hair.
I am happy.
My life is wonderful.
Yet,
I would be happier if he were here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

And then, an ending.  Not THE ending, just an ending. In hindsight, I wish I had let it be the ending. Would have saved me a lot of heartache.  But the result is the same….Surrender.

Surrender

It’s fascinating, really,
how happiness can come
and go,
so silently, so fleetingly.
One minute you can be happy, sure of your life
and the next minute
some new piece of truth comes your way
and completely undoes the happiness you were so sure of
only seconds before..

It feels obscene, it feels like a violation.
Of my person. Of my psyche.

I asked the question.
I hoped beyond hope
for a different outcome.
Knowing I might not get it,
hoping I would.

I did not.

Now, I can’t change the answer.
I can’t change our hearts.
I can’t go back
to the moment before I knew the answer.
The moment, the time, the place
where I could bury it
and ignore what I knew.
What the voices kept repeating.

The question kept rearing it’s head.
“What about this???” the voices called.
Are you happy?? Despite this??
Enough times they called to me as I slept
As I woke
As I showered
As I dressed
As I drove
As I made love.

They wouldn’t be ignored.

I surrendered.
I asked the dreaded question.
I got the dreaded answer.

Now…my task is to accept.
To surrender yet again, to what is.
And to place my hope outward
Forward.
To a time and place as yet unknown
Where I can dream the dream again
And laugh in it’s fulfillment.

Right now
in this time and this space
I sit with my sadness.
Knowing that it will pass.
That all things are possible.