the other nite i had a dream.

like every other one to date, it fucked me up. when i was married, i would have dreams, very detailed dreams, of him with other women. as it happens, i only had them on nights when he was actually with other women. it became routine, and i got used to it. still, every morning i would wake up, sick to my stomach and disoriented. eventually we seperated and the notion of his infidelity became evident, and so the dreams lessened.

the dream. he told me every horrible thing he ever did to me. the cheating. the constant, monotonous cheating. the lies he told his friends and family to make me the bad guy. the disaster he left our lives in to spite me. and that he slept with my close friend. that last one, though the only part not real of the dream, still stings. the details of why, when and how became a blur. i remember punching her, a lot. hard. and that she turned to him and spewed more lies about what i had and hadnt done. i think i punched her some more. and i went to her house and stole $16 from her. i have no idea why, but as it seems, that was my mighty revenge.

the friend. it angers me that she slept with my exhusband in a dream. is that reasonable? not so much. but still, it is what it is. there is more than just the dream. its the unreliable, the multiple personalities, the self-involvement, and the lack of interest for just about anything. among everything else really. imaging her with him, while it makes no logical sense, just creates more distance between us. not that there wasnt a vast cavern of uncertainty already. and sadly, she will never see it, let alone care its there.