Dreams. I'm always drawn to dreams. I don't know if it's the ethereal nature of being chased naked through a park by a Snarf who think it's mating season or the simple escape from the day to day of being chased naked through a park by a Snarf who thinks it's mating season. Where is Cheetara when you need her?
I think dreams give me time to work through my absurd problems and phobias. One night I had a dream that a friend sang like Avril Lavigne. Yeah, He was on the stage from my junior high theater, and called out to the audience asking me to join him. What's funny is his song was incredibly poppy and fun to sing, and I remember the first lyric. I know, definitely not Avril Lavigne!
Save your soul for me, cuz mine's been wasted…
That's what he sang in his Avril voice. And he had a cool keyboard, one of those elaborate Fisher Price ones. You know, 8 keys of color coded sonic bliss? His sounded like a complete band. Guitar, drums, and bass in one little box. Afterwards a janitor cleaned and polished the stage with a roller-popper thing.
Popopopopopopopopopopop…
Quite the dream inventers that Fisher and Price. It's funny what people can accomplish in dreams. I've heard of people solving big problems. I don't do that. I turn friends into singing Elmos. Tickle me Elmo? Oh, no, that's a different dream entirely.
"That Tickles!"
"Bad Snarf! Bad!"
In other absurd phobia dream news, I had a dream where a woman moved into my house. Yeah I know! I tried to run away. My legs spun like a pinwheel, and traveled just as far. It was horrible!
So I hear you ask, "Who was this girl?" I dunno, she was my dreamgirl and she scared the Silly Putty out of me. That's all I know. Was it that I was afraid that she really existed? I mean if I can dream her or slap my Putty on any image and keep her, doesn't that mean that I can realize her? Rocky Horror told us to don't dream it, be it. It also told us to play dress up and do the time warp. Some dreams just aren't right.
So yeah, this girl moved in. It wasn't that big of a deal, except she started rummaging my closets. She had a checklist, and she made piles. Piles of clothes MyEx had bought that she didn't like. She wanted to throw them out. I had to go through and grab the things I still wore, "No, I like this…"
It was that struggle between the old and the new. I'm not sure if the dream girl was trying to eliminate memories of my real ex. My id map wasn't complete enough to draw any conclusions. Still, it was strange that I was dreaming these things that had no bearing on my reality, yet they were clear enough to remember.
It's like some inner child tugging at my sleeve.
"I have a ques-chon."
I kneel down, "Yes, Robby, what is it?"
"Well, I was wondering…you know…I wanted to know…"as we work through the rubber band wind up to the "ques-chon" little Robby's upper body twists back and forth, arms spread out like a propeller, ready to fly when the body is primed. "…curious if maybe…uhm, what happens when the new girl comes? What happens to MyEx? Will she un-appear? Will the new girl make her not exist anymore?"
I smile and ruffle his hair. Little inner Robby is so cute sometimes. Sometimes, but not this time. This time I'm ready to burrow under the covers with my thumb in my mouth, eyes wincing the outside world at bay. I want to do this, but I can't. I can't let him see that. He'll just panic. Panic? That's my job.
I dismiss him into a mental fog with a smile and a wave. What if it happens just like that? I mean MyEx is gone, but I do have some nice memories. What if a new Swiss miss rides through on her chocolate Godiva horse and banishes them from my kingdom? Will I miss them? I hope so. Would I allow her to do that? I don't know.
In my real world I once stopped talking to an ex girlfriend because of MyEx. The girlfriend and I were friends, but she made MyEx uncomfortable. I asked MyEx point blank, "Does it bother you that I talk to her?"
"Yes."
"OK." I cut off communication. And I tore down all the mental posters that represented the girlfriend and packed them away. Ten years later I don't really remember her much anymore except that she took me to see a Donnie Iris concert. Yeah, you remember as much about Donnie Iris as I remember of her. It would have been so much cooler if the ex-girlfriends name had been Alleah, It wasn't. It was…what was her name?
See? I forgot for MyEx So what if somebody new enters my mind? What will she do with the souvenirs left by MyEx? Will she make a pile, point to the door and make me donate them to Good Will? Will I remember MyEx any more than my first set of Legos in ten years? We never saw Donnie Iris, so What's left? My friend at least can sing like Avril Lavigne, what can MyEx do?
"That Tickles!"
I told you, absurd problems and phobias. Why worry when another woman is nothing more than vapor right now? Now's worry should be nothing more than just getting rid of that Snarf...
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