A few years back I went to my High School reunion (25 years) and one particular guy asked me these questions.
And my reply, short and sweet “No”
(in my head WFT) Again “No”
“What?” (again, in my head WFT) “No! Why?”
Now, I do not feel I’ve failed at life because I’ve not done any of those things. I have dated, not much dating. More meet a guy, spend time with said guy (No! Not bonk each other’s brains out) maybe a little, but the stuff you do to work at, if you want to be permanently attached to this person forever.
What? I am a hopeless romantic. I just am not willing to throw myself at every man out there to find a decent one.
Sidebar: Where the hell are the decent one’s by the way?
I digress, I’ve had relationships. Sure, they broke my heart. The others, I broke theirs, or they didn’t have a heart to break.
I have the mentality to not go back when a relationship is over. Alas, if it didn’t work the first time and the one’s that got away have never come back.
Yes, I’m finally getting back to it, part three. I’ve given you the context, but the reason you needed the context was for this part. I had a dream the other day, I don’t generally dream about places I’ve lived except the previously mentioned house I lived with my favourite housemate “B”.
For a few years I lived there alone with B and after a year of the house being in some form or other of needing repairs after a horrible storm, where I was home alone trying to prioritise if I rescued my thing’s or B’s (The answer is both, but mine first) and the last few years (we were there four years all up) my then boyfriend moved in, making it cleaner and cheaper.
But I dream about it sometimes, crazy dreams where I’m in my old bedroom, on a bed that isn’t made, the bed is higher off the ground and I’m leaning back against pillows and there are two young children (not mine, I don’t have any) playing on the bed.
My mum is out and girls are on the pillows around me. There are other details I recall from this dream too, but don’t seem relevant and I remember them for weeks without any idea why this seems important to revisit.
I’ve recently increased my very mild anti-depressants to help with my “Crazy Bitch Hormones” and sleeping problems. Although the dreams are getting weirder and my desire to hurt people has not diminished.
I’m debating with whether this as the happiest time in my life and this is why my subconscious returns there? But the dreams are always vivid and immaculately detailed.
Why am I hiding under the round formed dining table in the room that was B’s bedroom? What am I even doing inside? How can they not see me?
Can the manufacturers of anti-depressants get this shit sorted out? I never took drugs in the 90’s, so it’s all new to me and I don’t like it.