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of fathers and dreams
Mar. 7th, 2002 11:29 ami had the strangest dreams last night...
my father was dead, and so was another friend of mine...
the whole dream was just me trying to cope with everything.
every so often i'd be hit with a wave of utter sadness, overwhelmingly, and then i'd stand up and try to keep going.
other people were there too, and i kept being afraid that they would die as well. it seemed so real. i had conversations with people, we traveled places, i packed suitcases. days and days went by. there was a gorgeous moonstone necklace that belonged to the friend who had died, i kept playing with it and looking at it, and wanting to wear it and burst into tears. i woke up feeling years older than when i went to bed last night, and not rested at all.
i was thinking about my father before i went to bed last night, so perhaps that accounts for it. i had just finished watching Billy Elliot, (i liked it by the way, formulaic though it may have been. good acting, and great accents.) i was thinking about how he is so accident prone when it comes to me. always doing the wrong thing, over and over and over. but at the same time, tries so hard. we've had our excessively bad moments, things which i thought i could never forgive. and yet, somehow, i have. and i remember when he was the only man in the world whose opinion i cared at all about, and when he was the only man that i ever felt the need to take care of...
and he's the only person i've ever met who has never lied to me. not even once.
my father was dead, and so was another friend of mine...
the whole dream was just me trying to cope with everything.
every so often i'd be hit with a wave of utter sadness, overwhelmingly, and then i'd stand up and try to keep going.
other people were there too, and i kept being afraid that they would die as well. it seemed so real. i had conversations with people, we traveled places, i packed suitcases. days and days went by. there was a gorgeous moonstone necklace that belonged to the friend who had died, i kept playing with it and looking at it, and wanting to wear it and burst into tears. i woke up feeling years older than when i went to bed last night, and not rested at all.
i was thinking about my father before i went to bed last night, so perhaps that accounts for it. i had just finished watching Billy Elliot, (i liked it by the way, formulaic though it may have been. good acting, and great accents.) i was thinking about how he is so accident prone when it comes to me. always doing the wrong thing, over and over and over. but at the same time, tries so hard. we've had our excessively bad moments, things which i thought i could never forgive. and yet, somehow, i have. and i remember when he was the only man in the world whose opinion i cared at all about, and when he was the only man that i ever felt the need to take care of...
and he's the only person i've ever met who has never lied to me. not even once.
