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Outlandish Dreaming

Julie’s pregnant and telling me all about the food she will eat and what she will feed the baby first, which is all food I cannot eat. Her and Justin are getting rid of all kinds of clutter. There are no children in this dream, I think this is her first pregnancy. I see bags of things ready to go to Goodwill and they sacrifice themselves for their child.

Why now? Why do I get all kinds of noise from The Sicilian-American in my brain now?

I keep seeing disembodied portions of him; an arm here, his face there, an ear lobe in my mouth. It’s a jumble of crud. And then, on top of this, I got some apology about him being distracted by an ex-lover of his and that’s why he’s been absent for months. He sounds good, but he only talks the talk in this dream.

I push him away over and over again after healing him because he’s got a wildly unhappy digestive system. I tell him to ditch all the pills he prescribed himself because they are hurting him and then heal his solar plexus chakra… but because of this, he’s aroused and curious and all kinds of things. He wants to learn how to do what I do. Except he also wants sex and I do not.

Finally, I reiterate that all men are rapists and he falls away. But he’s not the black-haired man at all, I’ve just gone Vanilla Sky and merged two people together on accident.

I keep seeing or feeling the idea that The Sicilian-American wants to be touched, but I am too far away and have no way to reconcile the distance. The other man who fell away is a pretty boy who gets whatever he wants and is too spoiled to understand he has become a narcissistic jerk wad. He’s pushy and annoying. I had to wait for him to show me who he was to understand he’s a jerk, of course, but the damage is done; he pretended to be The Sicilian-American himself.

The Sicilian-American is merely persistent. Not exactly invasive, but somewhat ever-present. He keeps pushing me away because I am bound to be a jerk myself, but I have no idea why this assumption is being made. No two people are alike and it must be that I am triggering past trauma. I have done nothing to him, even though once I decided I should have ran him over with my shopping cart. Then at least there’d be an excuse to speak.

I am mute in these dreams. I cannot speak. I have nothing to say. I merely observe and listen, which is not enough. This is who I am, but it is never enough. God rips me away to go on an epic adventure making video games instead.

My Bill kitty is back in my arms, quiet but present, staring at me openly as I look into his eyes. He has normal yellow eyes, though someone called them beautiful once. I remember now that I am awake he used to have what looked like swirls within his eyes before he died. I am unsure if any veterinarian knows what that is; mine didn’t. IT’S MOLD INFECTION. All my poor babies were dying of mold poisoning.

I see his little white “beard” that reminds me of Shakespeare and I remember that in my silly narrative of the world, he is Shakespeare reincarnated. God tells me that this was the only way he could experience true love. I truly love the kitty, even now, in his afterlife. God tells me I will adopt his reincarnation and we will die together one day. I remember I projected my love to him four or five times now, that I’ve felt him in my arms for the very last time just as many times. I miss my baby.

A man tells me that he’s sorry. He’s sorry because I seem to be abusing myself. I’ve gained weight and he noticed. It’s his fault, somehow, in his brain, or he can do something about it. I’m suicidal and eating pizza weekly, but it’s his fault and he can do something about it… Sure, okay. I let it go.

My cats meow at me in my sleep, causing me to dream of them. Except I end up dreaming of Bill again, the poor lad. He left us August 24, 2022. He was only 18 years old and cats can live to double that age in proper care.

I love you, Bill kitty. I miss you.

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