Dream 7.29.18Post Originally Published: July 29th, 2018
I was at O’Neill’s with a mix of the two staffs (AP & O’Neill’s); Leona, Chantal, Mary, Jen and Emily. The guy I hooked up with after the McGregor fight is there too (we’ll call him Kevin, because I honestly cannot remember his name), and so is Aisling from the guest house in Bali.
I was surrounded by the Irish.
It’s an understood that I’m involved with Kevin. Either Chantal or Leona has told me that he’s also hooking up with Aisling. It’s like some big deal among the staff – this very commonplace and trite bit of a drama. So a good looking guy is double-timing and uncommitted to two girls? I’m unbothered.
But everyone is anxious to see my reaction – I think this is a pressure I put on myself to repress my own reaction to things, not to show or speak about everything that affects me, to save what I’ve got for later, to keep the good material for a bigger reveal, to deliver a good story but at the same time not give away my guts.
Aisling is sitting next to Kevin when I approach them. My intention is to tell her that I know they’re hooking up and I don’t really care, and good for them because I’m not invested in him. But Aisling is nervous and gets up to offer me her seat the moment I reach her. I didn’t want her seat, and I don’t appreciate the sense of fear, or reverence she’s demonstrating toward me. It feels faked and forced, and based on a lie.
There’s this assumption of respect for, and fear of me – but how real can either sentiment be if they’re going behind my back?
Power & Respect
How much does anyone respect someone they’re lying to? And can fear and respect ever be complimentary? Do fear and respect actually work together to make someone powerful? Can power exist as the result of both positive and negative emotions? Also I think my interpretation of her fear is my desire for power, my desire to court respect and reverence and to intimidate others. This is a real part of me but I definitely keep it down because I don’t know how to manage it, and has anyone in the history of powerful people ever not tripped the fuck out on their own shit?
So I tell Kevin we won’t be sleeping together anymore and he gets in my face with a little bit of one-upping, where he let me know he didn’t want to sleep with me anymore anyway, he’d already had his fill, and Aisling was satisfying him more. And this is obviously a real fear, you know. When you’re having a fling and it goes south, no one wants to feel like they were dumped – that out of the available options they were the last pick, the one who could be done without.
This touches on my insecurities about my own sex, and the way I use my sexual relationships as insulation for my self-confidence, and how I prefer to keep a steadily moving roster of lovers to maintain the illusion that it is I who cannot be satisfied, that I grow bored, that I can pluck them and fuck them and toss them on a whim, easily.
But in real life isn’t it always the opposite? Isn’t it they who’d rather something, or someone else to me? And don’t I already know as much is going on? And don’t I willingly play my position as interim? So where’s the actual secret? Don’t I already know this about myself? Doesn’t everyone know it? Or had I fooled them?
So I fix to leave O’Neill’s, but before I do I’m trying to situate Chantal, who is all types of drunk and passing out in the toilet. But once I got her heels on she comes to life like a battery-powered doll.
Then I’m with Edy and we’re in DC. We’re at some older guy’s house but I don’t see Tony anywhere – or I’ve blocked him out. I could assume the knowledge that we’re at an older guy’s indicates his presence, but that’s where it begins and ends. Anyway, we’re fixing to go on some journey or adventure, I can’t remember but I feel like there is some medicine or prep work we have to do. Like we’re either doing a ceremony, or getting ready for symbolic spiritual event.
I’m obviously disengaged right, because I can barely remember any concrete details here, aside from Edy, a houseplant, and maybe a wooden shelf, blue-grey walls the color of the inside of denim, and a window. I don’t know. That just came out of me. I could’ve made it up.
At some point it’s very clearly time to go.
And I’m sprinting away from what feels like O’Neill’s though I don’t remember going back there. There is this big park/square and I’m dashing across it, running behind a young woman who I think is Jen from AP. Then, suddenly someone grabs me from behind.
It’s the cat rapper and he clasps his hands together and points them at me, like he’s giving me some magic energy and he tells me if I want to I can catch up to her. And I’m off running, closer behind this young woman and I almost reach her when I stop suddenly because I really loathe this feeling of competition with others.
I hate that I constantly compare myself and my status and position and success to others, and compare my perception of myself to my perception of others.
And I acknowledge it’s probably a learned behavior, but I still hate that it’s so stuck in me.
I hate feeling like everyone else is at some place of achievement/knowledge in life that I haven’t yet reached. I hate this self-imposed pressure to catch up, to know, to be somewhere. I hate feeling like I don’t know something that everyone else knows, that I am behind the world.
And cat rapper is like a wizard because he changed clothes and was at the tree exactly where and when I stopped running. And I told him I just didn’t want to anymore. Which is the truth of my life. I don’t want to keep running after people, after my own feelings of inadequacy, behind the personalities of other women I feel like I have to emulate in order to be loved.
I’m tired of feeling like I have to do so much to live/exist.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m always pretending around other people so I can be accepted. I’m tired of feeling like my role is to boost and prop other people up, to give them energy and life. I’m tired of losing my own energy, you know? I have very specific ideals and dreams for myself and I feel like I do compromise them often because of the subconscious fear of being unworthy. I feel like I try to be what I think other people want me to be so they will love me and I don’t know anymore which projections are mine or where they’re coming from.
I’m ready for clear borders.
If I feel disrespected or inferior or uncomfortable or even a hint of distrust I’m detaching myself and stopping. I don’t care anymore to endure weird energy or explore other people’s stuff, or look for the lesson in the tension. My curiosity and efforts to comprehend other people and our interactions is fucking exhausting.
Anyway, so after the dream the earthquake started and at some point between the dream world and the waking world, when the door was shaking I felt like I knew that there was a woman in the room with me, or maybe just outside the door, in the corner by the desk. I think her hair was pulled back in a little bun and I think it was my great grandmother Philomena.
So that’s a nice thing because Aunty Orma had said I looked like her when I slept when I was a child. And I like to think she was a no-nonsense bad bitch.
Thanks for reading, Love!
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