The Holy Trinity of Exes

Keeping a dream journal has me thinking about the sudden onslaught of dreams I actually sorta remember. I haven't mentioned it in Strangely Random Thoughts yet, but I've been reading The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, and following her suggestion of doing the "morning pages" and the "artist's dates". A few weeks in, the book says the reader might find themselves dreaming more. So, I guess that explains it, right?

Whatever the reason, I'm glad of it. I don't like a night without dreams, even the bad ones are welcome.

The following is a dream I had a few nights ago.

The Holy Trinity of Exes

I'm living in some other city and decide to go shopping. On an impulse, I buy a new bike (something I've been thinking a lot about lately). After the transaction is complete, I start panicking. This isn't even close to the right bike for me. The tires are miniature!

Attempting to sort out the unexpected Miniature Bicycle Crisis is making me really late for either school or work, (it's all the same in my subconscious apparently). Naturally, I am suddenly not at work or school, but in my home, that I evidently share with a boyfriend, who is in fact, a combination of three of my exes.

So, I'm supposed to be rushing off to work, being late and wearing my Grumpy Pants, (which are real by the way), but my Franken-Friend, who I shall call...Gr-ayn-acs in honour of The Three, comes home with some of his friends, who, as it turns out, are way cooler than I. In fact, I'm pretty sure they are all musicians. Listening to new music takes precedence over work,(as it should), but all I can feel is jealousy and feelings of inadequecy. My boyfriend is being condescending and I feel like a stupid little girl.

Later, (or possibly simultaneoulsy, who knows, it's a freaky dream thing), I'm in my vehicle, holding up traffic while The Cool Ones lean on the hood of the van, and The Holy Trinity of Exes sits in the back with the van door open and his leg (which is now injured) dangling outside. Traffic behind me is becoming an unruly entity, honking its disapproval over my lack of mobility. I call to the Super Friends that I should get moving, to which it seems they all agree.

But for some reason, I start moving ahead before they are all out of the way and everyone screams, including my boyfriend, whose foot is still out the door. I immediately slam on the breaks, but the van feels so heavy, and the pedal so stiff. The van wants to keep moving. I repeat over and over in a meek little voice "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" My boyfriend is seriouly pissed and cursing, and even though it's not obviously directed at me, it feels like it anyway.

I am overwhelmed with guilt and stupidity and humiliation.

I stay in the van as Graynacs says goodbye to his friends and I try not to watch as he kisses one of the girls gently on the lips. I feel like I'm invading his privacy, or his space, and guilt slips over me as he glances over and catches me watching him. And there's the humiliation again. And the jealousy. I chastise myself for being so childish. It's just a kiss. Only a kiss.

And that my friends, is all I can remember. Not as exciting as my road trip with a corpse, I know.

I'll try to do better tonight. Wish me monsters!

I Dream of Zombies

This is my very first post on a blog that I created um...more than a year ago, I think! The problem is, I never seem to be able to remember my dreams anymore, and many nights it seems as though I don't dream at all.

However, recently I've been waking up to snippets of my dream-world-meanderings and I've decided I'm not going to wait for me to wake up one day with a perfect memory of a dream. I will simply record what I do remember.

And last night's dream, was...weird.

I was travelling with a group of people, (not sure who they were), and we made a pit-stop at a public washroom along-side a highway. Inside the bathroom, was the corpse of a man who looked very familiar but whom I could not place. (Upon waking, I realized that this man was in fact Rita's ex from Dexter and the Devil from Supernatural - Mark Pellegrino)

Being a group of adventurous travellers on a road trip, we naturally decided that we should take the corpse with us on the road. So there we were, all snug in a small car, just us girls...and a dead man. When I should have been thinking 'holy fuck, what are we doing with a corpse in the car!?!' I was instead feeling insecure about the fact that I was freaked out while everyone else seemed perfectly content with this morbid turn of events. I felt...inadequate, foolish, different. I felt there was something wrong with me because I was not okay with this. And even though I was not okay with the dead man in the car, I said nothing.

At some point, the dead man became a living dead man - zombie-like but able to think and speak, and there was this ominous feel about him. (Obviously. He's a bloody zombie.) But this ominous feeling stemmed from the knowledge that he was a killer, and not just any killer, but the man responsible for the corpse in the bathroom. He was the killer and the killed, alive and dead.

So, uber-not-alive-not-dead-guy was our captor at this point, and to complicate things even further, he was deadly-determined to be the dashing groom of one of us lucky gals!

I know you're dying to know how it ends. Hell, so am I. But that's as far as my memory takes me!

The End!

Anyone want to take a stab at deciphering this dreadful dream??