My habit is, after a new post has been up for a few hours, i’ll go back and proofread it, one last time. I usually find 1 or 2 errors. This time i found about 10. Wow. This dream has me all thinky and it’s coming from different places all at once. There’s so much chatter in fact, that after i proofread, all sorts of other things occurred to me that i missed discussing, because there was just so dang much! I don’t like to go over 2000 words though, so a second piece is better anyway.

Things that i missed in the first piece:

– more people kept popping up
– the man of the house having a beer with my husband, and then next saying he doesn’t drink
– my husband drinking uncharacteristically
– me being compared to Reese Witherspoon numerous times in my life
– the opulence of the home
– rich people being nice
– the part where the lady of the house gossiped that we were her only neighbours that really liked them anymore, because of some drama started by the woman across the road

**********

I lost myself for a time, which is why i haven’t finished this piece. It was unavoidable. It’s the nature of my current emotional/mental state, coupled with being a multiple. So i read the first part of this piece, “Dream Shifts”, in order to refresh my memory and access the feelings. The problem being, dream journalling requires diligence if it’s to work. It’s a muscle that must be built up. Even the most vivid of dreams can fade in a relatively short period of time. At least, this is what i’ve learned and that’s been my experience.

I’m rereading, and i found 2 more mistakes! Honestly, i’m a bit of a stickler for proofreading. If i find someone has read 1 of my older pieces, i’ll go back for a quick once-over to see if i missed anything the last dozen+ times i checked. I find that interesting. I think it’s good actually, the mistakes, because i think it speaks to how i’m just letting it flow. Stream-of-consciousness isn’t my bag, man. I’m a bit pedantic (no really, because i’m sure you didn’t notice), and if i don’t manage myself strictly, i will agonise once i’ve posted a piece and want to pull it down because i’m afraid no one will like it or get it or be helped by it, etcetera ad nauseum.
Also interesting, and seemingly contrary, is that i proofread, but i don’t edit much. What you read is basically how i wrote it. I’ll move around some words and rearrange a sentence maybe. OH! and i always comb through to try and eliminate as many qualifiers as i can – because i overuse the shit outta those (i’m sure you didn’t notice that, either).

Anyway, back to Over-Analysing My Life: The Dreams Edition.
Heh.

Comments, Thoughts, Meanderings, Ponderings:

I do see more now than i did then.
I think the lady of the house is an amalgam of all the ladies that were ever kind to me. I always felt big and clunky and awkward, graceless and unfeminine. There were a number of women that embodied all the things i thought i would never be, who were varying levels of kind to me. I never quite knew what to do with it. I craved their attention, and i was drawn to them because i wanted to be like them. On the other hand, being around them intensified these negative feelings i had about myself; i felt gross, like i took up too much space, unkempt, because i was a poor girl with lousy hygiene, loud and obnoxious, because i was socially awkward. There were some though, that extended themselves to me with such grace and gentility that i couldn’t help but be around them despite the troubling emotions they brought up in me.

The lady interrupts my mother’s sexual display and my response to it, to give me something girly and frilly of hers. She is giving me some of what she has, that i’ve always wanted so badly. And then she gives me lingerie that symbolises that i CAN start over, that i CAN go back to the beginning. If you’ll pardon me, she’s saying i don’t have to be a sexual rockstar pornstar superstar. That i am fresh and new and unspoilt. Now, i am NOT saying that someone who is sexually violated is spoiled, for that is a vicious lie perpetrated upon us. What i am saying is that i have felt that way, and she was giving me a gift, using symbology i understand (cuz, my dream, right?), that that simply is not true.

And regarding the blustery man, i think he’s more than a representation of how it’s okay to be my bipolar, switchy, slidey, messy, histrionic self. I think he also represents my abusers, who just came in and took from me, and unabashedly, shamelessly, came back and took from me again. In that vein, i believe that the man of the house becomes a much more complicated representation than i’d first thought. He is me, who is actively working on turning away from my abuse so that i might turn my attention to better things. But i think he’s also the embodiment of my Bits N’ Pieces, who just turned my head away from what was happening.

Of course more people kept popping up. That happens in most of my dreams. I’m a multiple – that one’s easy. The only other point i brought up earlier here that i see as significant is the Reese Witherspoon thing. I’d been told more than a few times that i look like her. I always thanked them graciously, but inside i thought they were off their rocker. I’d stare at pictures of her and i could never see it. She is the embodiment of Southern grace and charm, and besides her strong chin and jawline, very delicately featured. And she is lovely. I didn’t see those things in myself – i couldn’t.
I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t done the work.

A few weeks back, a friend of mine told me she’d watched one of Witherspoon’s movies the other night, and said how much she reminded her of me. Again, i went to the pictures, particularly stills of the movie she mentioned. And i’ll be damned if i didn’t see it. Her appearance in my dream is further confirmation that this work i’m doing IS having an effect. The scales on my eyes that i was born with, are falling off. The veil that was placed over me, to hide me, that i thought was my shield but was actually my prison, is slipping off, and it won’t be long…

Oh my, how much i want to believe it won’t be long.
Let’s hold on to that wee bit of hope today, shall we?
That stuff’s in mighty short supply in my life right now, so i’ll take any and all that i can get.

I’m just a fucked up girl looking for my own piece of mind, i’m not perfect.
~ Clementine Kruczynski

If you read this kinda weird stuff, thanks.
Love and Peace,
~H~