The dream interpreter website says that I am trying to achieve inner growth and development. It says that I may be headed in the direction of a new idea, direction, project or goal.
It obviously does not realize that dreaming I was pregnant with a dead baby at school is probably the most disgusting fucking thing I could dream. I didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t know if the baby lived. I only knew that it was a boy, no one would help me, and I was alone. Except for those who scalded me with looks for shook their heads in pity.
I’m so scared. I feel like I’m sick. I feel like I’m alive and sick and like the dream is true. I know it’s not– how could it be!?– but I feel the way I did in the dream. From the thick band of weird all around my stomach to the horrified sadness. That dream represented everything that could go wrong. Everything. And I lived it. I lived the terror and the shame of it, felt the life inside me and then the death touch it. The rank touch of failure swiped nasty claws across my heart last night.
But, according to the dream website, apparently some aspect of my personal life is trying to grow or develop?
It’s going to stop. I know what my inner romantic thinks is going to happen in my “personal life,” and I won’t let it. I’m not ready for or craving a relationship. And that’s what I want when I decide to get close to a boy again. Although something in me tells me I should go for whatever opportunities present themselves, my actual brain, that has my future in mind, is adamantly screaming, no fucking way. Just stop. You’re so stupid.
I’ve never full-out denied myself something and meant it. So it’s strange when another side of me is straight up rebelling at what my logical mind is telling it.
I’m pegging it down as the fact that I’m just really pathetic and feel wrung out and sour and down and will leave it at that. With any luck this sickening feeling will be gone by the end of the day.