psycho bitch rides again
October 10, 2007
I’ve been having some really vivid dreams lately. Don’t know why that is. Maybe because I haven’t been getting much sleep. For some reason, my dreams are always pretty intense when I’m lacking in the sleep department.
I had one a few weeks ago that I don’t really remember too much about. But there was one scene in particular that has been stuck in my head.
In it, I’m driving past some railroad tracks. There is a train stopped on my left-hand side, and there are people dressed all in black unloading coffins from the cargo area. They’re small coffins, like the kind used for little kids. There’s one that has a silver ankh on the lid. I don’t remember much else, except that everything had sort of a purple cast to it. Very weird.
Had another dream last night that unfolded like I was reading a book. In fact, it was strange because it was exactly like reading a book…except, not only was I reading the story…I was in it as well.
I was in this big old house late at night. It was storming outside. Lots of thunder and lightning…high winds (I think it was storming in real life, as well…and the sounds and stuff got incorporated into my little dream world…). I didn’t want to be in the house. It was maze-like and creepy…and it sort of reminded me of the church I went to as a kid with lots of big windows.
I remember opening the front door and seeing a bunch of cats out in the yard. They were dressed in clothing, like people, and were talking in human voices. They were fighting amongst themselves, and I think I saw one of them get killed. I slammed the door shut and ran through the house pulling blinds and curtains closed over the windows. I felt that I would be safer if none of those cats could see me through the windows.
The old man who owned the house (whom I got the feeling was supposed to be my husband, though by no choice of my own) told me that it was my fault that his good friend had been killed…(referring to the cat-man). I told him that I had had nothing to do with it, but he just wouldn’t listen to me. He told me I wouldn’t be able to leave the house anymore…and that he had another friend of his coming to visit and that it would be my job to keep him company.
The “friend” turned out to be this really gorgeous guy with long black hair who looked as though he had just stepped out of a high fantasy novel.
I ended up falling hard for the “friend” but I felt bad about it, as though I was betraying my husband, even though I didn’t love him at all.
The details are all a little sketchy, but dreams usually are. The “realness” tends to slip away as soon as you open your eyes. I wish I could remember all of it. It was a very interesting dream, indeed. I’m pretty sure there was even some sex involved. Damn…oh well…*sigh*
While we were having lunch the other day, Nettie told me that D asked her how I was doing. To which she replied, “None of your fucking business…”
I love my friends.
She said she’s overheard him telling his new buddies that I am some sort of psycho.
If I was a psycho, I probably would have slashed the tires on his car…or set his lawn on fire…or broken into his house and stolen his underwear…or taken a hammer to his motorcycle…or come to his workplace and started shit. You know…psycho stuff… I don’t do psycho stuff.
Hell, I don’t even talk about him much outside Diaryland.
So, I have some advice for him…silent advice though it may be.
Either MAN UP (aka grow some fucking fuzz on your kiwis) and admit you acted like an asshole...or SHUT THE FUCK UP and get on with your life and leave me out of it. Pretend I’m dead. Christ…I don’t care…
But then, if he has to call me a “psycho bitch” to make himself feel better…whatever. I don’t know these people, nor do I care what they might think.
It’s not like I’ve never been the designated “psycho bitch” before.
I find it rather funny that usually when a man calls a woman a psycho…HE’S the one who is always going on and on and doesn’t ever shut up about it…
Guys are lame. They should really think up something new.
