I finally slept through the night last night. Friday was strange, but good, in a way. I spoke to my mother, and, although we bickered, and some things that she said made me extremely depressed, I began to be able to recognize her voice as the voice of reason. She sounded surprisingly like Vanessa Fargo. And I began to accept the reality of the present while looking slightly onward toward the open future. I was actually able to sit with Liam for quite some time without crying. I still fell into a valley of self-doubt and fear...but Liam was able to comfort me without making me any promises that he never intended to keep. Deep in the recesses of my brain...I didn't want him to take me back. I wanted to continue moving forward with my life.
But I still ache for this place...and this love inside me. And these memories. WHY can I only think of the good times. WHY is my heart bombarded with images of happiness and that feeling of safety that only comes from true delusion. Okay...that's me being bitter. I'm sure the feeling exists in a pure real way...a way that is reciprocated...but where to find it...
While sleeping through the night, I dreamed that I was in London...but it felt more American...and I was thrift store shopping. I found some amazing clothes and shoes, and I wanted to take Liam there to show him how amazing it was, but the city was sinking. Yeah...I don't know if it was raining...or if the Island of Britain was slowly submerging, but the streets were flooding, and we had to hurry to get to the store. When we got there, the supply of cool things was much more limited. And then, suddenly, as in dreams, I wasn't with liam any more. I was with people I didn't know, and we were looking for a restaurant. I think perhaps these people were the London friends I never actually made. We were laughing and then we were trying on clothes...and I thought, "I can't leave London!" So I decided to come back and get a Master's in a foreign language. And I had to explain to Liam that it wasn't about him...I wanted to be with my London friends. This is when I started to wake up. Have you ever slept so hard that your ear is sore when you wake up? I do it occasionally when I am stressed out about something. My ear was sore...and it snapped me back into reality. I thought about convincing myself that the dream was telling me to come back to London...but I think it would always be for Liam...and never for me. I'd have to make it be for me...and I think that will take a little time.
Then I got sad. As ya do. And I wrapped the covers tightly around me...and I almost cried.
Thank you for your words. They meant SO much to me. I feel much less alone. I feel the ground beneath my feet...and I feel the support behind my shoulders. I'm getting out of bed today.