The Second Post: Dreams Reveal More Than Reality Sometimes
I had a dream last night where N and I somehow ended up on this island that I found out was Papua New Guinea after asking someone in the dream. I also asked if it was acceptable to just call it New Guinea and the woman said "yes." I just looked at pictures of New Guinea (dream woman said this was right, so I'm sticking with it) and my dreamscape is startlingly accurate. Keep in mind that I've never seen pictures of New Guinea ever in my life. The entire landscape was tropical in nature with a limited number of indigenous people showing up in my dream to give it an ere of authenticity.
Right before we ended up in New Guinea, we were driving down a dirt road descending from a barren mountain. It was that real fine, light brown dirt you find in deserts. N was driving the car and we were both distracted from the road. Suddenly, I look up and see a motorcycle coming towards us. I warn her that a motorcycle is coming towards us in an insistent, calm manner devoid of all anger. It was a simple, "hey, look out for that motorcycle coming at us." She doesn't pay any attention until the last possible moment and barely misses the motorcycle hurdling towards us. Normally, I'd assume my initial reaction to that would be anger. Angry at the prospect she could have caused another person's death and potentially our demise. However, quite the contrary happened in the dream. We both acknowledged it was a close call, but continued on down the hill. We enjoyed each others' company in that moment. Enjoyed it with the knowledge we faced the headlight of death and narrowly escaped with our lives. If we had hit the motorcycle, it's safe to say we would have careened off the mountain; our lives would have ended with the motorcyclist's blood on our hands... or at least hers.
This reminds me of a real, happy memory I have with N. I had just returned from Spain after the second time, which was arguably more isolating and lonely than the first. I was only there for 3 months the second time, but to be fair, she was the catalyst for my early homecoming. She was the catalyst for my loneliness this time. More on that later, but for now, I'll stick to the happy memory.
I've had my motorcycle license since I was 14, which yes, makes me a total bad ass. My desire to ride started to ween after 24, but I still had my motorcycle for those occasions I felt like feeling the freedom of the road. I promised N I would take her out for a spin once I returned from Spain, and it was one of the first things we did together upon my return. One day, when it was probably 40 degrees outside, I took my motorcycle out from my parents' garage for a quick ride around the block. My motorcycle didn't have a huge engine. It was a blue, 250cc Honda Rebel, perfect for a pleasure rider like myself. I took it out of the garage and started it, but it died soon after ignition. It hadn't been ridden or serviced in almost a full year, but after about the 3rd attempt, it stayed on long enough for a ride around the block.
I layered on a sweater, a hoodie, and my dad's old navy blue aviator's jacket with the velvet lapel, while N layered on a hoodie and a thick jacket. I remember a photo my dad took of us very vividly in my mind. It's a photo of us sitting on my motorcycle as we look excitedly into the camera, a photo I've since deleted from my phone (along with every other photo). Anyway, I drove down my driveway and turned out into the street. My motorcycle was barely giving any power, which made the ride anti-climatic at best. We only went around the neighborhood for about 5 minutes since it became too cold very quickly. The mediocrity of the motorcycle's power also subtracted from the experience. Looking back now, it serves as the perfect metaphor for the rest of our relationship from that point on.
I didn't feel the same way about her when I came back from Spain. This is when I really started faking our relationship. There was even a moment right before I left that I really questioned if I was making the right decision. So much of my time had been spent not having any experiences there because I was afraid it'd make her upset or she'd get jealous (which she often expressed jealousy and discontent when I'd go out with my friends). I had a moment sitting at my IKEA like desk I put together myself if I was doing this for me or for her. I concluded that I was doing it for her and thought about the life I'd been denying myself. I thought about this girl named Lauren who I knew the year before and always really liked. She was back for her second year, and I avoided her because I knew talking to her would make N jealous (red flag). I thought in that moment if I should just stay, break up with N, and talk to Lauren. It was a frantic moment trying to find a reason to stay. I even let N know that I wasn't sure I was making the right decision after telling her why coming home was the best decision 3 hours previous. I barely slept for those 3 months I was in Spain the second time. I barely slept and I lied to N... a lot. Not about cheating, bad decisions, or anything like that, but about how I felt about her. I talked about marriage rather than tell her I was unsure about our relationship. I told her how much I missed her rather than admit I didn't feel the separation as strongly. I admittedly laid the groundwork for how she would feel based on my loneliness, guilt, and not wanting to hurt her. She would call me and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I said things that I thought would make her feel better, but weren't truly how I felt. Am I a horrible person for doing this? Is she a horrible person for constantly pleading for me to come home in the first place? Do qualifiers of good or bad even have anything to do with it? I really don't think they do in this case. I think long-distance relationships are really fucking hard and people, especially two emotionally vulnerable people who don't know what they are doing, will inevitably make mistakes.
I wasn't the same after my return from Spain the second time. I spent most of my days alone there because N's neediness prevented me from even thinking about anything else. The first year, while it was lonely and challenging, was at least filled with other people. I had friends that year that I did things with and that participated in my same level of alcoholism. I was depressed, but I still had my sense of self. It was my depression, based on my choices, and any and all shortcomings attributing to things I needed to learn and grow from. The second time...not so much. I only had one carry over American friend from the year before and it was the guy I wasn't very close to. He was a real neurotic, anxious sort, which conflicted greatly with my personality. He was a smart guy and a solid dude, but my god, he was like Woody Allen took speed. We'd become closer since we both needed a friend and were incidentally in long distance relationships. We had a lot to talk about, but it was clear this wasn't going to be a life long relationship. His insight into how N was treating me was valuable, yet I ignored it. She would text me, I'd text her back and let her know I was out with Ben getting some food and wine and that'd I'd text her when I got home (you know, just out trying to live my life), she'd blow up at me for doing that, and I'd be left confused. He'd echo that I'm not crazy, but I'd make excuses for her behavior. I'd rationalize this treatment because I loved her... or so I told myself. I needed to love her, honestly. I needed a reason not to face myself in the mirror and face my broken spirit--I was scared to grow.
I was talking to my roommate earlier today and she is still processing certain parts of her divorce. I won't get into the specifics of her situation, but I did end up admitting something to her that I had forgotten. N and I had a huge falling out in the first 2 weeks of getting together. Eventually, she just wanted to be friends, but I went to her place, cried for an hour and a half, and begged her to give me another chance. I was really emotionally screwed up. I was worried she was the person for me in this life, when really, she was just a person who had shown me the most affection out of anyone in my life up until that point. I sobbed and asked her to take me back, and literally had thoughts of wanting to kill myself if she didn't. Those thoughts would happen a couple more times, but that exact situation would play out repeatedly over the course of our entire relationship. Sometimes it'd be her sobbing, sometimes it'd be me. I never told her about my suicidal thoughts. I think it's really fucked up to tell someone you'll kill yourself if they leave. I think it's selfish to even tell someone you have those thoughts long after the situation passes. It creates this unfair pressure that I never want to put on anyone in this lifetime. All I know is that I needed her (or really anyone who gave a shit) at that point because I was tired of being alone. She needed me because I was nice, charming, and wasn't going to leave. We were the definition of toxic.
You are probably wondering at this point, "so what about New Guinea?"
Ah, right.
All of a sudden we were in New Guinea in this small little museum type building with a cafe inside. I talked with an employee there (who spoke English!) and told her I felt like I'd visited this place before. My dream memory kicked in upon that illuminating thought. I remembered visiting this museum with school children I was teaching at the time. A sudden flash of us entering the same spot I was standing hit me and quickly dissipated. I entered the cafe area and saw the 1st grade teacher I had worked with in Meco, Madrid and sat down across the table from her. In real life, she has a very subdued style comparable to what you'd expect from most 1st grade teachers. Her style was simple and plain, but she looked nice every day. In my dream, she had tattoos on her arms and dressed a bit more punk. She was wearing a leather jacket (I think?) and her attitude was completely different. We began to speak.
She told me she had quit teaching for awhile because it was starting to become too much for her. She was seeking a change, which is why she was in Papua New Guinea and completely changed her style. I was very intrigued to be talking to her because she's someone I very highly respect. She's partly the reason why I want to pursue teaching again. We continued to talk (I can't remember what about at this point) until my dream vision focused in on N. She was standing in the foyer outside the cafe and noticed I was talking to Eva. In real life, N was always jealous when I talked to other women. It didn't matter if they were my friends I'd known for years or not. She was always jealous when I showed another woman attention. In this dream moment, however, I just knew that she was secure in herself and the fact that I was talking to another woman. She drew in a deep breath, composed herself, and walked into the cafe. Her presence was calm and comforting when she sat down with Eva and I. This is how I always wished she could would have acted.
I always wished she could be secure with herself and not always think I'm going to cheat on her. I am not the type and never will be. I'd much rather punish myself internally over my attraction to another woman than ever cheat on someone. I'd much rather admit that my attraction lies elsewhere and end a relationship than be the guy who cheats on someone and tells them my true feelings later on. She had guys cheat on her in the past and those issues clearly never went away; they just found a target to project themselves on.
She sat down and her presence invigorated me. Soon, my dream started doing quick cuts like in a movie and my attention shifted from Eva to N. At one point, I even physically turn my back to Eva and focus all my attention to N. This is what N always wanted from me. She always wanted me to give her my full attention even when we were with other people. My dream was giving me a wish fulfillment and dream N a wish fulfillment. In this one moment, we were the couple we wish we could have been all the time; the couple we were only a few brief times in our relationship.
I woke up the next morning and felt the need to immediately write about this dream. Instead, I had to get ready to go volunteering for the Children's Cancer Association. The rest of my day afterwards would be filled with melancholy, not enough food ingested, and a relieving talk with my friend Kincaid. It has felt good to start talking with my friend about my ex and the things that went on in our relationship. Things I never told anyone while it was going on because she would always get mad when I told people what was happening in our relationship. Every time we had a fight and I would talk to my sister about what happened, it became clear N was being unfair towards me in most cases. When I'd talk to N after talking things through with my sister, she would get even angrier at me for talking to my sister about our relationship. I didn't see any problem with it because my sister is my fucking sister. If N was worried about coming off bad in a situation and being judged, perhaps she should have changed her behavior. Eventually, I stopped talking to my sister about our relationship because of this. Eventually, I started to hold all of it in. This is when things started getting bad. This is when I started to really lose my sense of self.
Right before we ended up in New Guinea, we were driving down a dirt road descending from a barren mountain. It was that real fine, light brown dirt you find in deserts. N was driving the car and we were both distracted from the road. Suddenly, I look up and see a motorcycle coming towards us. I warn her that a motorcycle is coming towards us in an insistent, calm manner devoid of all anger. It was a simple, "hey, look out for that motorcycle coming at us." She doesn't pay any attention until the last possible moment and barely misses the motorcycle hurdling towards us. Normally, I'd assume my initial reaction to that would be anger. Angry at the prospect she could have caused another person's death and potentially our demise. However, quite the contrary happened in the dream. We both acknowledged it was a close call, but continued on down the hill. We enjoyed each others' company in that moment. Enjoyed it with the knowledge we faced the headlight of death and narrowly escaped with our lives. If we had hit the motorcycle, it's safe to say we would have careened off the mountain; our lives would have ended with the motorcyclist's blood on our hands... or at least hers.
This reminds me of a real, happy memory I have with N. I had just returned from Spain after the second time, which was arguably more isolating and lonely than the first. I was only there for 3 months the second time, but to be fair, she was the catalyst for my early homecoming. She was the catalyst for my loneliness this time. More on that later, but for now, I'll stick to the happy memory.
I've had my motorcycle license since I was 14, which yes, makes me a total bad ass. My desire to ride started to ween after 24, but I still had my motorcycle for those occasions I felt like feeling the freedom of the road. I promised N I would take her out for a spin once I returned from Spain, and it was one of the first things we did together upon my return. One day, when it was probably 40 degrees outside, I took my motorcycle out from my parents' garage for a quick ride around the block. My motorcycle didn't have a huge engine. It was a blue, 250cc Honda Rebel, perfect for a pleasure rider like myself. I took it out of the garage and started it, but it died soon after ignition. It hadn't been ridden or serviced in almost a full year, but after about the 3rd attempt, it stayed on long enough for a ride around the block.
I layered on a sweater, a hoodie, and my dad's old navy blue aviator's jacket with the velvet lapel, while N layered on a hoodie and a thick jacket. I remember a photo my dad took of us very vividly in my mind. It's a photo of us sitting on my motorcycle as we look excitedly into the camera, a photo I've since deleted from my phone (along with every other photo). Anyway, I drove down my driveway and turned out into the street. My motorcycle was barely giving any power, which made the ride anti-climatic at best. We only went around the neighborhood for about 5 minutes since it became too cold very quickly. The mediocrity of the motorcycle's power also subtracted from the experience. Looking back now, it serves as the perfect metaphor for the rest of our relationship from that point on.
I didn't feel the same way about her when I came back from Spain. This is when I really started faking our relationship. There was even a moment right before I left that I really questioned if I was making the right decision. So much of my time had been spent not having any experiences there because I was afraid it'd make her upset or she'd get jealous (which she often expressed jealousy and discontent when I'd go out with my friends). I had a moment sitting at my IKEA like desk I put together myself if I was doing this for me or for her. I concluded that I was doing it for her and thought about the life I'd been denying myself. I thought about this girl named Lauren who I knew the year before and always really liked. She was back for her second year, and I avoided her because I knew talking to her would make N jealous (red flag). I thought in that moment if I should just stay, break up with N, and talk to Lauren. It was a frantic moment trying to find a reason to stay. I even let N know that I wasn't sure I was making the right decision after telling her why coming home was the best decision 3 hours previous. I barely slept for those 3 months I was in Spain the second time. I barely slept and I lied to N... a lot. Not about cheating, bad decisions, or anything like that, but about how I felt about her. I talked about marriage rather than tell her I was unsure about our relationship. I told her how much I missed her rather than admit I didn't feel the separation as strongly. I admittedly laid the groundwork for how she would feel based on my loneliness, guilt, and not wanting to hurt her. She would call me and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I said things that I thought would make her feel better, but weren't truly how I felt. Am I a horrible person for doing this? Is she a horrible person for constantly pleading for me to come home in the first place? Do qualifiers of good or bad even have anything to do with it? I really don't think they do in this case. I think long-distance relationships are really fucking hard and people, especially two emotionally vulnerable people who don't know what they are doing, will inevitably make mistakes.
I wasn't the same after my return from Spain the second time. I spent most of my days alone there because N's neediness prevented me from even thinking about anything else. The first year, while it was lonely and challenging, was at least filled with other people. I had friends that year that I did things with and that participated in my same level of alcoholism. I was depressed, but I still had my sense of self. It was my depression, based on my choices, and any and all shortcomings attributing to things I needed to learn and grow from. The second time...not so much. I only had one carry over American friend from the year before and it was the guy I wasn't very close to. He was a real neurotic, anxious sort, which conflicted greatly with my personality. He was a smart guy and a solid dude, but my god, he was like Woody Allen took speed. We'd become closer since we both needed a friend and were incidentally in long distance relationships. We had a lot to talk about, but it was clear this wasn't going to be a life long relationship. His insight into how N was treating me was valuable, yet I ignored it. She would text me, I'd text her back and let her know I was out with Ben getting some food and wine and that'd I'd text her when I got home (you know, just out trying to live my life), she'd blow up at me for doing that, and I'd be left confused. He'd echo that I'm not crazy, but I'd make excuses for her behavior. I'd rationalize this treatment because I loved her... or so I told myself. I needed to love her, honestly. I needed a reason not to face myself in the mirror and face my broken spirit--I was scared to grow.
I was talking to my roommate earlier today and she is still processing certain parts of her divorce. I won't get into the specifics of her situation, but I did end up admitting something to her that I had forgotten. N and I had a huge falling out in the first 2 weeks of getting together. Eventually, she just wanted to be friends, but I went to her place, cried for an hour and a half, and begged her to give me another chance. I was really emotionally screwed up. I was worried she was the person for me in this life, when really, she was just a person who had shown me the most affection out of anyone in my life up until that point. I sobbed and asked her to take me back, and literally had thoughts of wanting to kill myself if she didn't. Those thoughts would happen a couple more times, but that exact situation would play out repeatedly over the course of our entire relationship. Sometimes it'd be her sobbing, sometimes it'd be me. I never told her about my suicidal thoughts. I think it's really fucked up to tell someone you'll kill yourself if they leave. I think it's selfish to even tell someone you have those thoughts long after the situation passes. It creates this unfair pressure that I never want to put on anyone in this lifetime. All I know is that I needed her (or really anyone who gave a shit) at that point because I was tired of being alone. She needed me because I was nice, charming, and wasn't going to leave. We were the definition of toxic.
You are probably wondering at this point, "so what about New Guinea?"
Ah, right.
All of a sudden we were in New Guinea in this small little museum type building with a cafe inside. I talked with an employee there (who spoke English!) and told her I felt like I'd visited this place before. My dream memory kicked in upon that illuminating thought. I remembered visiting this museum with school children I was teaching at the time. A sudden flash of us entering the same spot I was standing hit me and quickly dissipated. I entered the cafe area and saw the 1st grade teacher I had worked with in Meco, Madrid and sat down across the table from her. In real life, she has a very subdued style comparable to what you'd expect from most 1st grade teachers. Her style was simple and plain, but she looked nice every day. In my dream, she had tattoos on her arms and dressed a bit more punk. She was wearing a leather jacket (I think?) and her attitude was completely different. We began to speak.
She told me she had quit teaching for awhile because it was starting to become too much for her. She was seeking a change, which is why she was in Papua New Guinea and completely changed her style. I was very intrigued to be talking to her because she's someone I very highly respect. She's partly the reason why I want to pursue teaching again. We continued to talk (I can't remember what about at this point) until my dream vision focused in on N. She was standing in the foyer outside the cafe and noticed I was talking to Eva. In real life, N was always jealous when I talked to other women. It didn't matter if they were my friends I'd known for years or not. She was always jealous when I showed another woman attention. In this dream moment, however, I just knew that she was secure in herself and the fact that I was talking to another woman. She drew in a deep breath, composed herself, and walked into the cafe. Her presence was calm and comforting when she sat down with Eva and I. This is how I always wished she could would have acted.
I always wished she could be secure with herself and not always think I'm going to cheat on her. I am not the type and never will be. I'd much rather punish myself internally over my attraction to another woman than ever cheat on someone. I'd much rather admit that my attraction lies elsewhere and end a relationship than be the guy who cheats on someone and tells them my true feelings later on. She had guys cheat on her in the past and those issues clearly never went away; they just found a target to project themselves on.
She sat down and her presence invigorated me. Soon, my dream started doing quick cuts like in a movie and my attention shifted from Eva to N. At one point, I even physically turn my back to Eva and focus all my attention to N. This is what N always wanted from me. She always wanted me to give her my full attention even when we were with other people. My dream was giving me a wish fulfillment and dream N a wish fulfillment. In this one moment, we were the couple we wish we could have been all the time; the couple we were only a few brief times in our relationship.
I woke up the next morning and felt the need to immediately write about this dream. Instead, I had to get ready to go volunteering for the Children's Cancer Association. The rest of my day afterwards would be filled with melancholy, not enough food ingested, and a relieving talk with my friend Kincaid. It has felt good to start talking with my friend about my ex and the things that went on in our relationship. Things I never told anyone while it was going on because she would always get mad when I told people what was happening in our relationship. Every time we had a fight and I would talk to my sister about what happened, it became clear N was being unfair towards me in most cases. When I'd talk to N after talking things through with my sister, she would get even angrier at me for talking to my sister about our relationship. I didn't see any problem with it because my sister is my fucking sister. If N was worried about coming off bad in a situation and being judged, perhaps she should have changed her behavior. Eventually, I stopped talking to my sister about our relationship because of this. Eventually, I started to hold all of it in. This is when things started getting bad. This is when I started to really lose my sense of self.
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