(no subject)
Oct. 21st, 2002 04:49 amI'm not even looking for him. I'm walking through with a friend, searching for Dougie. We walk through a building, and across from us, R's there, sitting in a chair. He looks up, and I know he's seen us, so we walk over. There's a car seat beside him, and a girl sitting with him, playing with his little daughter, but I know the baby isn't hers. I don't really want to be here, but it is good to see him. I make the introductions, and hold out my hand, but instead of shaking it, he takes it, and we hug. His hair brushes my cheek, and the dream stops. I'm frightened, doubtful, resigned -- but I'm holding him, and something inside me falls into place, against all my reasoning. I wake up when that hug has gone on forever, and I wake up wanting to run. Away and to, at the same time, and equally strongly. So I do nothing but lie there and cry.
It's recurred every time I've slept in the last week.
I'd rather not be dreaming about him. Not because of anything about him, really; it's just that as long as I do not feel constantly pulled, I can continue my life. There is no pressure from him; it is all self-inflicted. I already know this feeling is there. The dream circumstances never occurred, but that hug is straight out of my memories of him. And I am not ready to deal with this, but setting it aside feels like explaining to my very small child that Mommy just doesn't have time right now. It doesn't understand. The fact that I'm terrified makes no difference to it. The fact that I still have pockets of hurt so bitter and so raw that anyone who touches on them gets lashed out at doesn't matter to it. Broken isn't a word that's in my self-description any more. But there are still places that haven't healed.
( festering wounds. )
Nowhere in all of this is there room for that nagging dream. When I'm settled, when I have back everything I had two weeks before I went to NY, I won't mind opening the door to this possibility again. I just want a partner, not a benefactor, not a white knight, not a refuge. I am not ever again going to want or allow anyone or anything to stand as a buffer between me and my self, my life, my moods, my debts, my problems, or my choices. Not even wistful little dreams. So I guess it's time I learned how to say "Mommy just doesn't have time right now."
Note: I wrote this and rewrote this and posted this and privatised this and declassified this and privatised this and now I'm leaving it wide open because, well, because I can. Because I needed to say it and I need to say it more than I need to not be seen as making an attack. It's not meant that way, but I'm not letting fear that it'll be taken that way make this decision for me. Read it or don't read it. That is your choice. Saying it or not saying it was mine.
Further note: Everything in here is from only one point of view. It isn't the only one. It's just the only one I can present. All I can tell is how I felt and what I know and believe. I know that my view is incomplete; I keep it in mind. So should anyone else who reads this.
It's recurred every time I've slept in the last week.
I'd rather not be dreaming about him. Not because of anything about him, really; it's just that as long as I do not feel constantly pulled, I can continue my life. There is no pressure from him; it is all self-inflicted. I already know this feeling is there. The dream circumstances never occurred, but that hug is straight out of my memories of him. And I am not ready to deal with this, but setting it aside feels like explaining to my very small child that Mommy just doesn't have time right now. It doesn't understand. The fact that I'm terrified makes no difference to it. The fact that I still have pockets of hurt so bitter and so raw that anyone who touches on them gets lashed out at doesn't matter to it. Broken isn't a word that's in my self-description any more. But there are still places that haven't healed.
( festering wounds. )
Nowhere in all of this is there room for that nagging dream. When I'm settled, when I have back everything I had two weeks before I went to NY, I won't mind opening the door to this possibility again. I just want a partner, not a benefactor, not a white knight, not a refuge. I am not ever again going to want or allow anyone or anything to stand as a buffer between me and my self, my life, my moods, my debts, my problems, or my choices. Not even wistful little dreams. So I guess it's time I learned how to say "Mommy just doesn't have time right now."
Note: I wrote this and rewrote this and posted this and privatised this and declassified this and privatised this and now I'm leaving it wide open because, well, because I can. Because I needed to say it and I need to say it more than I need to not be seen as making an attack. It's not meant that way, but I'm not letting fear that it'll be taken that way make this decision for me. Read it or don't read it. That is your choice. Saying it or not saying it was mine.
Further note: Everything in here is from only one point of view. It isn't the only one. It's just the only one I can present. All I can tell is how I felt and what I know and believe. I know that my view is incomplete; I keep it in mind. So should anyone else who reads this.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}