You are viewing ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92){kind=small}
inchoatelyjaded's journal
You are viewing inchoatelyjaded's journal
|
|||||||
 |
|
|
|||||
|
Tired One's Journal  Last night, I dreamt about my dying cousin. I dreamt I went to see her and she was a bit better, she could move, although she couldn't talk still. I picked her up to carry her to bed, and when I picked her up I could hear her voice inside me saying could I tell everyone thank you, but she's had enough, she wants to go on now and could we let her go. I thought in my dream that sounded insane, I didn't know how to tell my aunt and other cousins that without sounding like a madman. When I woke up today, my mother told me Cara had died in the night. I obviously dreamt about it because I had been told this really was getting close to the end. It was my minds way of sorting it out I guess. It made me feel less sad at first, but as the day went on and the dream wore off, I can't stop crying about it. Poor girl, she was only just 29 and she hasn't had an enviable life. I wish at times like this I could be religious and mean it. I'm normally never that unsettled by my dreams, but I was really freaked out by a very vivid one last night. I dreamt for reasons I don't remember, that I went through the door into the land of the dead. At the time I was convinced I wanted to go, I needed to get someone back, and despite them warning me I could never go back through, I didn't believe them. It seemed just like a door, because it turns out the world was layers and layers of other worlds, all invisibily overlapping each other, like thousands of membranes. Anyway, it started off as a landscape of ruins, coloumns and foundations in red brick. It looked like the English countryside on one of those grey summer days where the sky is black and leaden, but the grass is still green. The world was bizzarely silent though, there were no insects, birds, animals or people except the coloumn of people I was walking with. I was walking with friends I knew and as I walked into the land, I knew I had forgotten something in the world of the living and had to go back to get it before I could do whatever I needed to do in the land of the dead. So my friend told me to pick up stones and other objects from each landscape I walked through, because I needed these objects to guide me back, because my memory would slowly disintegrate. When everyone stopped on the far side of this lake we'd walked around, I decided to head back with a japanese friend of mine- we'd nip back to the land of the living, then come back. We decided to take a shortcut through the lake, so we started wading. It wasn't very deep, just deep enough to cover my hands, which I was trailing in the water. As the trailed, they suddenly brushed against another pair of hands, under the water. My hands froze for a moment to check and a woman pulled herself out of the lake using me. She'd slipped under the water because she'd forgotten how to walk and there were hundreds of others who came out after her, so we were pulling chains of people through the lake, trying to concentrate on our task, so they didn't pull us under. Once on the other side of the lake, the people we'd pulled out the lake seemed to disappear, all but a couple of them, who kept following us. We wound our way back through the ruins, to the door we seemed to have come through before. It appeared to be guarded by a man and a wild boar, which tried to savage us everytime we got close. In the end I threw rock after rock at its head and it backed down enough to let us and one of the lake people, a boy of about 11/12 through. We were so happy to be out, but then it gradually dawned on us that we weren't out at all. We were just on the otherside of a door in the same landscape. And this kept happening, we kept fighting our way through doors, guarded by very hostile people, but each door lead us into a new part of the same lifeless world. In the end we found ourselves by a stable, with a horse and a pony in, which we thought we'd steal to help us get out using the element of speed. We hid by the barn for hours and eventually, we took the animals and fled- my friend and I on the horse, the boy on the pony. We thought we'd try to head for another door, but instead found ourselves in an empty (but very modern city). Our horses seemed to be getting lighter in colour, almost transluscent, and strings of text started appearing in them, almost like advertising slogans. Then slowly they shattered and disappeared. We proceeded on foot to the headquarters of the people who guarded the doors, to plead our case, even though they acted so violently towards u. When we arrived, they were discussing the horses, and how they'd managed to extract an essence from them that allowed you to heal from localised injuries. To prove it, one of them pulled out a gun and shot this woman in the eye, but instead of blood and a hole, what dripped out was a substance like molten mirror or metal that slowly shrank back into her normal features. We begged them to release us but they confessed there was no way back out at all. They were all "orphans" from other worlds too, who'd become lost there but they maintained the doors so violently, to maintain their authority and to also provide the illusion that the situation was controllable and escapable. And then I woke up and wondered what was happening to my mind to produce such a bleak, bleak dream. I feel bent double, sickened by the weight of something I’ve trapped myself in The carapace that’s formed around my heart is strong enough Not to let the new pain it, its touch on the oddly deadened surface is almost amusing But inside I still suffer a heart that’s suffocating. I’m sick of the role I’ve fallen into Pillar, support, whipping post, Taking the abuse of a broken person Who is trying to fix them self. But what if when they broke themselves They broke you? But instead of collecting your parts and fleeing You assumed that somehow you could salvage yourself And them. And create something of what used to be Because the memories aren’t so distant, aren’t so faded That they don’t still softly glow with the ache of something So close it could almost be touched. But now in role of matron, mother, counsellor You watch as they ever so gently, by degrees Try and twist the blame to you Pin on you the growing tailspin of a person out of control. They pushed themselves but still you cannot let them fall Guilt of what you once felt makes you try and catch them. And on some level, they know, you can’t leave someone like that; Kick a man when he’s down. Their lies don’t hurt anymore; it has gone past that time Each lie instead pushes us further apart. Like the axe through the tree. But as the tree, even as the damage grows, It’s hard to overcome the survival instinct, the optimism that maybe The wound could be healed. Its only when the tree falls that it will be done And who knows when that will be. I suffocate under my situation My emotions, because who can I talk to about this sinking ship? How can I say, I’m no longer in love with you, but I don’t hate you enough to leave you- yet? God I'm so fed up and bored of everything. I'm sick of being under appreciated, I'm sick of being lent on, I'm sick with putting up with all the crap I get. I'm bored of feeling trapped. I am sick of seeing the gulf between the way things were and the ways things are. I am sick of being such a coward that I didn't just stay out and that I don't have the guts to do it again and that now I can't do it again. I'm currently having some sort of PTSD problems thanks to my lecture today on "clinical presentations of STIs". Which basically meant enormous, screen size slides of hideously diseased parts dripping and oozing, with our lecturer going "Can you see the crusty lesion there? And look down, a pool of discharge is collecting on the table!" I swear I will never have sex again. They should put pictures of those things up in nightclub loos. Condom sales would go through the roof. Today I got the quirky birthday present I wanted for the boy for free thanks to an advert on freecycle. I'm very excited by that fact. But alas I can't broadcast it because the more people I tell, the more likely it is he'll end up finding out I've spent nothing on his present... Well after two weeks with a manky chest infection and a massive dose of oral steroids, I finally started to cough a little less this weekend. But oddly, I still felt rather tired. And then randomly yesterday when I was at an art gallery, I fell over for no good reason. Nevermind I thought. Went home, had some dinner, watched some tv, went to bed at about 1am and went to the loo. Thought "fucking hell, this hurts to pee" and noticed the reason why was that I was pissing BLOOD. Now I don't know much about the genito-urinary tract, but I KNOW thats not normal. Nor is it normal when I need to go to the loo again ten minutes later and start peeing out blood clots. So I decide now is the time to visit the old accident and emergency department. So I wake my mum up, who agrees, its definately not normal to pee blood, and off we go. When I get there, its nearly empty and a nurse takes me in for triage and asks me whats wrong, so I tell her "I'm peeing blood clots" and she goes "and?" and I say "and it hurts a hell of a lot" and she says "What, thats all thats wrong with you??" Its like, yes lady, I'm sorry, I'm just weeing blood. Don't mind me here, I'll just exsanginate through my bladder. Happens all the time. Luckily the doctor was more sympathetic and after squeezing my side for a laugh and watching me leap 10 foot into the air, he told me the backache I've had for atleast a week was actually a kidney infection. Joy. And that it was also in my bladder. So now I have a chest, kidney and bladder infection. And I feel really rather sorry for myself. Bring on the antibiotics and the hotwater bottle. Today I have mostly been writing angry letters to vent my fury about asthma, the underground and builders drilling 3ft away from me in a seminar. It was very, very therapeutic. I might write them more often. I feel warm and fuzzy inside knowing I have vented my anger on something completely unrelated and kept some letter answerer employed.... Oh and this weekend I found my alcoholic uncle had had enough time not suffering from brewers droop to father two more illegitimate children with two different women, bringing my cousin total up to 21! Well folks, its all over between me and the boy, after I discovered he's spent the last 3 months online, regularly checking singles dating sites after he posted his profile on them looking for a "fun, interesting and outgoing girl". Apparently he just did it for the ego boost. Unfortunately, preferring to cruise online for random single mothers and lorry drivers pretending to be women then to be with your real life girlfriend is somewhat crushing to the ego of said girlfriend. I don't deal well with being upset or scorned. Today, I sat on a train back from nottingham- wearing a ridiculously huge pair of sunglasses, even though I was in the train and it was cloudy, crying so hard the tears were dripping out from under the sunglasses, trickling down my cheeks and onto my chest and despite being on that train for two hours, not a single person who passed, or sat near me said a word. And whilst some people would consider that a failing of the British, I love them for it. Sometimes you need to have a bit of peace and quiet to cry in a public place. |
|||||||
|
|
|
|||||
