All that is
i keep having really vivid dreams. like they make my skin
The dream i had las night was atrocious. i was in our back
garden and i'm standing on the part where the red ford is
parked and im standing, lookng towards the garage and
elemchi is annoying me. so pick up what looked to me at
first like a dried up big piece of tree bark, and i take
it and swing it near her to ward her off. then i look to
my left and on the wall of the garage, crawling up, is a
giant slug. like long and wide, but blue-grey with dark
spots on its back, with a tail like a fish. then to my
horror i realise that what i had just picked up wasnt a
tree bark, but a dried up version of what i just saw. i
was disgusted. there was just one, there were two. the
second one was on the ground near the washing line.
the second dream that night was to do with my mummy.
again, very clear. this time we were shopping at lidl and
getting bottles of water. then i see the police having a
conversation about someone their looking for and i realise
that its my mummy they're on about. then they walk in the
store and find her and she's by the checkout point and im
completely embarassed! this blonde lady is behind us,
giving us the same look, and reminding me of the way i
felt the time we were in dublin by that bus stop being
stared at and dogged up by that blonde lady. at some poiny
during those dreams i was at fiona's flat in enfield for
a few days ago, i had a similar kind of dream. about 4
dreams in 1 night.
i;ve forgotten the details now but when i woke it felt so
this guy was fighting (and winning) wilder beasts on some
kind of desert slash forest place. doing summersaults and
stuff. earlier on, the same guy was with another dude, in
an american-like setting, by a coffe machine, filling his
cup with whipped cream. i think i was the boy.
then it was another dream about us, stuck at a traffic jam
somewhere in africa, most possibly nigeria and having to
stop our journey and make camp in this nigerian airways-
flight-delay type scenario. then they were dishing out
food in this camp and i didnt get my share (somethihng to
do with azubuike eating it), so i was pissed. and then in
the night, by which time this camp-like setting had turned
into our house in bristol, i found my self downstairs and
as i was helping myself to this food, my daddy comes and
starts moaning about there being no food etc that i should
wait till tomorrow if i want to eat.
the other dream that night, was my last i think, because
that was when i woke up (or was woken up should i say)
i was with ben. we were sat on his couch at his house. he
was sat to my right we were leaning facing eachother and
he was opening up to me. giving me some much needed
answers, which annoyingly i cant remember now.. cant
remember what we were talking about exactly but i think i
was asking him some of the questions i'd really like to
ask but cant, and he was saying something i liked. but i
was woken up. grrrrrr!
he text me the other day. "hello sexpot. when's you're
return date again? need to see you cc"
not sure exactly what "cc" means.
plus is it weird that i know his message off the top of my
head? in my defence, his messages are annoyingly short.
i messaged him back (slightly annoyed once again at his
relentlessness to send anything that doesnt contain some
kind of sexual suggestivity) and I showed it too... well,
kinda. "back in 9 days. what've you been up to?" ok, fine
he text me back. "spent a week in new york, and just
landed in LA."
well bloody good for you! bloody bastard. god, i hate him.
but the challenge or hope or whatever the fuck it is, of
wanting him and needing him to see me as something is
its like a task i have to complete. the reward: self
validation, self worth and self love. the penalty:
depression, reinforeced sense of worthlessness, self-
loathe, self pity.
the stakes are high, but the glimmer of hope that he could
be my remedy is worth seeing it through. plus the sex will
be off the hook. erotic, and passionate.
what's scary is that i know he'll be my undoing. he'll
fuck me up and i know it. he'll be the straw that'll make
me break. the one that drives me to make that call to
therapy. because really, after him, then what?
how will it end with him? will he stop calling? or just
not answer after he gets bored. and he will. because he
knows it, i know it, that i have nothing to offer him
after my body. he on the other hand...