Wednesday, February 05, 2003

I took a nap this afternoon and dreampt about Sean Biren. He was playing the same old games in my dream that he always used to play in real life, hot and cold. And I still cared. I don't know why that came up in my dreams -- sure, we exchanged an email or two at Christmas, but I haven't seen him in over 4 years, and we've only emailed two or three times in all that time.

I hate that. You spend so much time getting over something or something, and then it comes up again in some random dream. You can never really get away from it.

This was playing in the rotation in the background while I slept:

They can come true,
yeah, they can come true.

Move a step closer -
you know that I want you.
I can tell by your eyes
that you want me, too.
Just a question of time;
I knew we'd be together
and that you'd be mine.
I want you here forever!

Do you hear what I'm saying?
Gotta say how I feel.
I can't believe you're here,
but I know that you're real.
I know what I want
and baby it's you -
I can't deny my feelings
beacause they are true, yeah.

Dreams can come true -
look at me babe; I'm with you.
You know you got to have hope,
you know you've got to be strong.


(- Gabrielle, "Dreams")

Maybe there's still some of that latent somewhere. Who knows. Knowing what he is, though, I'd like to think that I don't want him, haven't wanted him for a long time, and I'd like to stop dreaming about him.

I also dreamed about painting. I'd been planning a specific painting, drawing inspiration from other paintings in the dream. It involved a mirror -- lots of black in the mirror, almost embracing everything in the reflection, and a woman in front of the mirror, her back visibly reflected behind her. There were a few books I was going to draw inspiration from, too, actual books I think, but I can't remember what they were. It was all the same dream, and Sean sort of became the dominating factor in my memory when I woke up.

Somewhere along the way, I've taken to using my answering machine to screen my calls. I never used to do that, but there are so many people right now I just don't feel like talking to. I wonder if I've picked up some of Jeremy's antisocial tendancies, or if this is all me.

Somebody called just now and didn't leave a message; that means that I missed them, and I'll never know who it was. That bugs me. But on the bright side, the two or three people I generally always want to talk to always leave messages. I think. Maybe it was just a telemarketer on the phone just now; they always seem to call at night these days.

I've been feeling the depression again a bit. It's not so bad - right now, I'm just wading in the pool; not even forced to tread water yet, can still touch ground, no worries at all of drowning. Hopefully this is as bad as it gets this time 'round. I think dancing helps.

Again with the phone, no message. Arrgh.

I feel a little out of it. That's what I get for sleeping too much. And when I feel this way, the urge is to sleep more - bah. Won't sleep. Don't do it, Kathy. Perhaps I'll clean until it's time to head out; my kitchen is still a mess from this weekend. The sink is overflowing with dishes.

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