Loser has started to invade my dreams. In all the forty-one years we were together, I had only dreamed about him once and that was when he was standing at the top of three stairs, smiling while I was being ripped apart.
What gives him the right to suddenly start visiting me in what is the only time I can get away from the thoughts and regrets and anger?
I woke up at four o’clock this morning, with my heart racing. I knew I would never be able to go back to sleep, so I just got up and checked my email and looked for new blog posts.
I was surprised when I received an admonishing message by one of malignnarcs’ avid readers. She chastised me for being mean…with my nasty comments, to somebody who was “only trying to help us.”
I was amused and I’m quite sure HG is appreciative of his new, protective “fuel.”
Maybe I’m dreaming about Loser because I am still so furious about how he treated my youngest daughter…or maybe it’s because of my sons’ predicament.
It’s not like I didn’t see his abuse toward my children during their entire lives nor is the whole J***** situation anything new, so it’s a mystery to me.
I successfully employed the “no contact” rule but I guess I didn’t read the FINE print. I didn’t want him in my life and I certainly didn’t want him in my dreams. I know he is still in my head, but only because of my relentless desire for Karmic revenge.
I would ask Pearl (my pendulum) what the Hell is going on but for me, she seems to be as useless as a third tit.
The dreams aren’t nightmares. They are confusing. In my dreams, he is crying and I feel helpless because I don’t know what to do. I am conscious that I don’t want to help him but I question myself as to whether or not I should.
He’s young. He still has dark hair and the scars on his face are still red. The feelings of disgust are there, as they were for the last several years of our so-called life together. I FEEL GUILTY for not putting my arms around him or kissing him on the cheek…or saying some hollow phrase.
I don’t wake up feeling sad or nostalgic. I wake up wanting to throw something across the room. I want to call his cellphone and say “I’M AWAKE AT FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING BECAUSE OF YOUR ASS…AND I WANT YOU TO BE AWAKE, TOO.”
I wouldn’t of course, and I couldn’t if I wanted to because I deleted his number. Besides, I wouldn’t waste my “free, unlimited minutes” on a call to him.
I’m ready for the “invasion of the dream snatcher” to be thrown into the bottom of the two dollar bin.
Maybe I dreamed about him last night because I remembered him saying “I think you hate my guts and are trying to destroy me.” Poor thing. It was all about him!
He accused me of trying to destroy him after what he did to me and our family?
I hate to lose my Southern gentility but sometimes I wish his dick would fall off, get run over and smashed FLAT by a rogue Matchbox car.