And the navel-gazing continues

While I'm somewhat loath to apparently be turning this blog into a dream diary, I keep having the most troubling dreams that I need to exorcise, so feel free to skip this one.

Anyway, last night I had a dream that my parents got back together (somewhat reluctantly? No one was particularly happy about it, and in fact my dad was not present in the dream at all) and bought a gigantic old house that was allegedly in New York City, even though, uh, New York City is not known for its gigantic old houses. But, you know, that was obviously not the weirdest part of the dream. So we all moved to this house, and I was lodged in the attic, and Tommy was lodged on the first floor, and Jeff was somewhere in between, I guess, and I remember very clearly what the downstairs of this ancient mansion looked like, but I'll be damned if I could actually describe it.

So we're living in this house, and my parents are still working at their New England jobs, and this all seems so very real, and I begin to panic, because how am I supposed to get to my job? Did I quit my job? Should I be looking for a new job? Then I remember that I moved out with Mike, and I have a place in Nashua, and apparently I'm just here in New York to see the new family pad. Then my mom comes home and pulls out this day-glo bottle that looks like Gatorade or something but turns out to be rodent poison gel, because apparently the house had a rat problem? The rats weren't in my dream, thank god, but now I am recalling the giant rats we saw outside the dining hall senior year. Ugh. So I express my concern for the animals that aren't rats in the house, namely Charles Wallace and for some reason, my dad's dumb dog, and my mom gives me this look, so I amended it to "animal," because we clearly both hate the dog, which is fucked up, but it isn't so much about the dog as, you know, my dad's wife. Which is the only tangible thing that ocurred in this dream that I can point to as evidence that my parents weren't, like, enjoying being back together. Because my parents are not supposed to be back together, ever.

So I was so nervous during the dream, and it all seemed so real, like I could touch the floorboards of the attic, and I was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, and I couldn't until I remembered about my new house. I didn't wake up from that dream--it went away, and I woke up at 5:00 when Mike's stupid alarm went off, and but I still felt so much better to be awake, in my apartment, with parents who don't have any intention of reconciling for any reason ever.

Ugh. My dreams suck these days.