I felt her tongue in my mouth and I was the happiest man on earth. To kiss her was a dream come true. My Guardian Angel kissed me.
It started on some sort of shopping spree and she was taking me to different places buying me things and holding my hand and I was confused because she wasn’t in her guardian angle form. Not that she ever is. I call her my guardian angel because she has lead me away from negative situations and helped me out in previous dreams. She is based on a real girl I know in her mid-late 20s that I rarely talk to and see online once in a while. I named her Carmella the first time I wrote about her in a blog titled Dream Girl is my Guardian Angel but her name is Bailey. She won’t read this and if so . . . well I’ll deal with or not then.
So Bailey is taking me to familiar and unfamiliar places and we are happy. I felt the way I used to feel when I was on vacations with previous girlfriends during the courting or just past the courting stage. In the back of my head I was confused. First of all, she has a boyfriend and it seems they’ve been together since high school. She would rarely give me the time of day in real life. Not to say she was or is a snob. She just never had a reason to talk to me. I’ve admired her from afar. I also didn’t know where were in the dream. It felt like Philadelphia and New York with a touch of San Francisco. Maybe my writing about hanging out with a few girls in San Francisco in my next novel is rubbing off into my dreams.
We ended up kissing on the sidewalk wherever we were. Heavy making out. I felt her tongue hit my tonsils and loved it. I haven’t had a kiss like that in almost 2 years. We hugged and then hurried to our hotel room. In the dream I went with it as if I knew there was a room. I settled in the room and saw her take her clothes off and she came to me again and kissed me wearing her white bra and panties. I was still in shock and thrilled to realize it was a dream. It was more real than being awake. She was dressed again. And I followed her outside to the sidewalk. Her boyfriend was there and she looked at me in a way I knew she was going to give him another goodbye talk. Then she took him into my room at a new house and we were no longer at the hotel.
I let them have their time. I was overall confident that Bailey was mine but still was anxious for him to leave. It reminded me of when I dated a married woman that was separated and the 3 of us hung out. I walked into the living room and it was a combination of a few houses I’ve lived and my aunt and uncle’s house in Michigan. My grandmother was alive and there with aunts and uncles and cousins. My blood relatives and my adopted relatives were all there. I was so distracted by having my fantasy girl, my dream girl after going so long without love I had trouble enjoying my family. Everyone was talking to me. Someone said that I was going to miss my flight home. I thought I was home and Bailey and her boyfriend were in her my bedroom. I felt love in the room but I wanted the love in the bedroom, forgetting Bailey has appeared as my guardian angel in the past.
I thought of her kiss, closed my eyes and smiled. I woke up and it was only 11 pm. I felt happy for some reason even though I never resolved anything in the lucid dream. It will come to me. It always does.
I haven’t been quite right for the past few days. I have never been quite right but the past few days my sleep and emotions have been a little screwed up. I have some vivid dreams quite frequently and even more vivid when I’m feeling screwier than usual. For about the last 6 months I’ve been having a girl I know appear at least 3 or 5 times a week.
In real life I barely know the girl. I know her from when I was going to the 12 step meetings. Beautiful young lady that I’d see once a week and maybe say hi to her now and then. I never had a conversation with her. Eventually, we friended on facebook because we have so many “friends” in common. Still didn’t talk. Once in a while I’ve looked at her profile but since she’s shown no interest in me I never made a big deal about her in my mind.
So, this girl I’ll call Carmella because I like that name, appears in many of my dreams and it doesn’t matter the theme or involvement. She’s played major parts where we have a relationship. She’s appeared as a background character at parties, meetings and moving dreams. We’ve been friends, lovers and just associates that wave or say hi. I can’t remember the details of the dreams just her appearances.
I did manage to remember the dream I woke up from this morning. Yes, I actually woke up in the morning again. I was a party with various people I’ve known for years. I was having a decent time and Carmella came up and whispered that it was time to leave in my ear and walked away. I kept talking to another friend for a few more minutes and she came back. She grabbed my arm and said let’s go. All I knew is that she was my ride in the dream. I woke up before we went anywhere. I woke up with the feeling that she was leading me somewhere safe. Or maybe she was leading me to wake up because I had things to do.
I don’t think about Carmella that often. She does kind of haunt me the day after I dream about her. Most of the time I haven’t analyzed her presence in my dreams. Today I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think there is a reason. I’m not usually a dream analyzer or analyst but I’ve come to the conclusion that my dream girl is my guardian angel. She is protecting me somehow for some reason.
For a moment I thought about telling her about it but came to my senses pretty fast. Imagine a girl in her mid 20s getting a message telling her she stars in a guy in his mid 40s dreams a few times a week and it means something to him.
I’ll just keep to myself who she is and let her keep guarding me from whatever and enjoy my dreams.
I’m a controlled mess. I’m a bomb about to blow yet I have the combination to diffuse. Controlled mess. I stare at the empty walls of my confused living room and it looks away. I dwell in my creative constipated exploding head and my heart pounds. Aches serge through my face. An electrical current. Powerful yet it’s nothing compared to my damaged emotions. When the lightning strikes all I am left with is a limp tired soul determined to grow up and destined to cure my “self imposed mediocrity”.
I’m a controlled mess. I toss and turn on the couch, the floor, the bed and even the toilet in a state of high-wired corrosive depression. My dreams and ideas of conquering the world while my body and mind is melting into the present. I’m infected. I’m a controlled mess.
Fighting myself is a losing battle sometimes so I stop fighting and go with it. Go with the pain, anguish, and let go. I’m a controlled mess. It works for a time and I fight again and I almost win then I let go. No winners or losers just a controlled mess. Settling for the best is the worst I could do. I do.
Keep me at arms length as I keep you at bay at a distance of mental crookedness. Don’t love me. Don’t even like me. Not until I do. Not until I understand me and what’s going on. What’s going on? I’m a controlled mess.
I know the facts. I’ve examined them and read about them and researched them. I know the feelings as they repeat my truth and my lies. Life changes. People change. You change. I change. Can you spare some change for a tired old man with dreams of . . . .? Something. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime. Maybe I told you too much. I’m a controlled mess.
A new document. When I open my Word program to start writing or open an old document sometimes the program forces me tochoose “open new document.” It’s like a sign that I should be writing something new. With each new document I am starting over in a sense. It at least gives me the opportunity to start over. I am tempted to compare it to life. Each new day is a new document. I have a choice to open it and start new or go back to old documents and finish or dwell on what’s past.
As in real life I choose to ignore the chance to start fresh and go back into my old documents and try and finish writings that are either obsolete or are going nowhere. Hmmm.. Just like my life.
Here I am choosing to start my new document I find myself unsure of where I am going to go. Hmmm. Just like life. I put my nose to the proverbial grind stone and my shoulder to the wheel and move forward.
Being a writer is not a choice for me anymore. It’s like my other roles in life. My illnesses, my addictions, etc. I loose the choice of what I am bit I can make the proper changes to adjust to new situations. Ooooooo. I am such a deep dude. *sarcastic laughter under my breath*
I make choices every day against my better judgment. I know right form wrong and times out of 10 I choose the wrong. I know I can learn from my mistakes and I choose not to on a daily basis. Ironically it all catches up to me and I change and I grow against my own will. I make better choices slowly and move forward to the next level of my life even slower.
I used to have these delusional fantasies about tomorrow when I was younger. “Tomorrow is the day I am going to wake up and be completely different. I am going to cut my hair, shave, get that perfect job, fid that perfect love and make the start of my new life.” Every day I’d wake up and put it off until tomorrow. It’s different now.
Everyday, for the most part, I get up and take it as it comes and try and do one thing different. Just one thing. As easy as it sounds it can be a struggle as well.
I believe in slow change now. I believe that life changing events and rude awakenings don’t last. I’ve found this to be true personally. I’ve had a lot of my delusional “epiphanies” and then I go back to the old me somewhere along the line. The real changes and growth periods, the ones that stick come from daily maintenance and in baby steps. One little thing at a time. I don’t think I’d want it any other way at this point.
I’ve gone through a major transformation the past few years and it was slow and sometimes painful. Someone asked me after a book reading I did the other day “what would I change in my past if I had a choice?” I can honestly say “not one thing.” I know how I am now. I don’t know what I would have been like otherwise. I’ll take now.
I can accept my daily choice of a “new document” or finishing an old one. It’s my choice and I know from the bottom of my heart that I’m going to be ok either way.
Hmmm.. This is no longer a new document. How about that?
Your not so humble narrator has been out of it for a bit. Not keeping up on the blogging. He’s been writing but not anything for the site. For you to pity or indulge in. For you to read, dear reader. Seems like there was nothing to say and too much to say at the same time. Doing nothing and everything at the same time.
Almost a month in the new house and everything has settled for him. He is not having the freak outs and anxiety like before the move. It took a few weeks for him to get back in the groove of writing. Busy unpacking, enjoying the new HD 40’ flat screen TV, getting rejected by women, reading and pretending to look for work. He still wants to avoid it as long as possible. Some days the day is seized and productive and other days are wasted away but overall your self-absorbed narrator’s life is pretty good. Living a day at a time and pretty much working on one project or another.
He sees great things in the horizon and knows it’s not going to happen over night and without hard consistent work. Stubborn and determined to see it through until the end and then maintain. New business ventures. New books to be written. New stories to be told. For such an isolating loner your narrator certainly has a lot of stories based on life and fantasy. Thank God. If it wasn’t for art he would have no purpose.
Stay tuned as he says “I did it again.” What he did or does or is doing is yet to be determined but I’m sure it will be documented for all to read and see, That’s you the reader.
“Thank you for reading and I hope you keep it up.” Says the narrator.
“I want what all those happy joyous & free mother fuckers have..” she wrote in a message to me.
I got news for you- nobody is happy, joyous and free all of the time. It comes in waves. We are all human, ya know. We all have our crosses to bear. We all have our fears, insecurities, failings, and crashes. Some more than others but none of us would be human if we didn’t.
I’ve been attending these meetings for over 18 years and I’ve heard a lot of great things but most of the people are full of shit. They talk it and don’t walk it. That’s human too. I don’t hold it against them. Nobody is happy, joyous and free 24 hours a day. No one. Did I say no one? No one.
There was a line from Jason Lee’s character in Vanilla Sky “the sweet wouldn’t be as sweet without the sour”. If I didn’t have the sour I wouldn’t appreciate the sweet. It doesn’t have to be all bad. I don’t have to focus on the bad but I do have to go through the emotions whether I want to or not. Otherwise I’m repressing it and telling myself and others a huge lie. “I’m ok”. No I’m not. I am this moment but not all of the time. It’s ok to not be ok sometimes. It doesn’t mean that I am not spiritual enough. It doesn’t mean that I’m not working the 12 steps hard enough. It just means that I am human and life is happening and I have to face it instead of running from it like I have in the past.
When my friend died of Aids in 1997 I sat with his mother at the funeral. She said that everyone is telling her “everything is going to be ok”. She said, “it’s not going to be ok.” I agreed with her and said, “You’re right. It’s not going to be ok.” It was probably the most honesty I’ve ever given and she’s ever received. It’s better than lying to her. She seemed to feel more comfort knowing that someone recognized her right to feel that way than hearing “It’ll be ok”.
There’s this one guy that says “I’m happy, joyous and free today because I choose to be” at every meeting he goes to. Yet he seems pretty miserable when I’ve tried talking to him after the meeting. Abraham Lincoln said, “you are as happy as you make your mind up to be”. I get the general attitude there but it’s not that easy all of the time. Every morning I wake up and pray and ask God to guide me through my day. Some days I get aggravated or depressed almost immediately after. That’s life. I can choose to stay there or find a way out. On the average I do a little of both on a given bad day.
I don’t trust people that act happy every time I see them and always share and talk about positive things. I don’t like people that tell me how great they are doing when they’re really not. I love to hear people share from their heart about themselves and their lives whether it’s good, bad or average and what they are doing about it. What’s really going on?
I hear a lot of people say, “I’m livin’ the dream” in some circles and it seems so fake like a Stewart Smiley affirmation. I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me. Maybe they are “livin’ the dream” but it just seems so fake. This is just my personal opinion. If it works for them then more power to them. I understand the general sentiment in the term. In a sense I am living the dream too. I understand the point they are making which is I never dreamed I could live with my addictions in some sort of control. I never dreamed I would have and utilize a higher power that helps me if I ask. In that sense I am living the dream. It’s just when that’s your rehearsed answer to the question “How are you?” it bothers me. Then again, any rehearsed answer to a greeting can bother me. I like honesty. Although I’m not always the most honest person myself, I aim to be.
It upsets me sometimes when people fool other people into thinking that his or her life is happy, joyous and free at all times. It gives people a false hope of something they may never live up to. I admit that I am happy joyous and free over all in the general sense. I am grateful. I am also sometimes sad, angry, lonely, depressed, and anxious. I guess what I’m saying here is that it’s ok for me or you or him or her to feel that way. You have the right to feel. You own your emotions. Yes. There are ways of pulling out of it but most of the time I believe that a person has to feel the emotions whether they are good or bad and deal with them. Don’t dwell on them. Deal with them like a human being. Talk to people about it. Most of the time I tell someone I’m close to how I feel they understand. They’ve felt that way too whether they are an alcoholic or bipolar or not. The oddest people I’ve met in my life are the ones that seem perfect. They seem happy all of the time. I’ve learned through getting to know a lot of people like this that they are just as human as the rest of us. They have defects of character and fears just like the rest of the human race. They just hide it better.
Enough of my rant. I just hate when people live a lie. I’ve put many a person on a pedestal through the years and every one of them has fallen. Why? They are human. Super men are in comic books and movies. Now I know that it’s ok to be human. It’s not ok to dwell in any emotion. I live one day at a time and enjoy every moment I can. Some bad moments and some good moments. I hope you do too.
I always have an obsession or obsessions with various topics or things. Usually topics that bore other people or they find uninteresting. One time I was obsessed with being obsessed. It’s had it’s good points and bad. Too much of anything is bad for a guy like me so over all it’s not good. This brings me to my new obsession. The heat. High temperatures and their effects on me.
As far back as I can remember I have always hated the extreme heat and especially hate to sweat. I hate that dirty nasty feeling I get from sweating. I even hate to sweat during sex. I don’t like to exercise because I don’t like to sweat. I’ve avoided the heat as much as I could through most of my life. Once I discovered air-conditioning I was hooked.
About fifteen years ago I discovered that it might not be the heat. It might only be the humidity. I traveled to the west coast for the first time in 1997. Actually, it was the second time. It was my first time as an adult. Throughout Washington, Oregon, California Arizona and Nevada I didn’t sweat and found that the heat didn’t bother me that much. I remember one day in Phoenix, Arizona it was 113 degrees outside and I didn’t break a sweat. It was hot and bothered me a little but it was nothing compared to an 83 degree day in New Jersey. Up until then I wondered if my problem with the heat was in my head.
Part of it is in my head too I’m sure. I also have extreme allergies in the summer and can’t be around fresh cut grass, trees, plants etc without having a reaction. I subconsciously associate the heat with my allergies.
Top it off I’m on some medications that are not a great combination with the heat. They make me really tired if I’m in the heat too long and I also can’t eat. I end up eating later in the evening when it’s cooler out. I know this is no good for me.
This year I swore that I was not going to complain about the heat. I was going to deal with it and not say a word. Easier said than done this year. I lost my job six weeks ago and I am home more and spend more time on my porch outside so I can smoke while I write. This is also the worst year for record high temperatures in years. It was 103 degrees today. Of course I am inside more than outside when it gets this hot but I feel tired and lethargic and sick from the heat.
I started looking up articles online to see the heat’s effects on various types of people. It affects people with mental illnesses the elderly, the young, the obese, and people with different medical conditions taking different medications. So, it’s not entirely in my head.
Even so, I am still obsessed with the heat and I keep reading articles all day. I keep checking the weather on and off all day and reading the warnings on the news. Meanwhile, I am writing this on my 91 degree porch at 10:44 pm. I am 89 % tired, 5% miserable, 4% grateful and 2% sick.
Posted by richhillenjr 
