nightmare on Elm St.Th

Since moving to Elm Street I’ve had two nightmares and Dave’s had one. We didn’t even think about the name of our street when we moved there.

This last dream was particularly bad. I was friends with two girls who were concidentally identical twins. In the dream I spent most of my time with one twin because the other was in the hospital because of her recent suicide attempt. My friend and I broke into a house and stole a red and purple hat, collander, and other silly little items. We left out the front door, where my friend’s twin met us. We stopped to talk to the owner of the house who was doing lawn work in a white undershirt. As we walked by him we decided to ditch the stuff we had stole and then we continued down the road.

Suddenly we realized that we had left my friend’s twin behind and we started to run. We heard a scream and the twin came forward with blood streaming down her arms and a big kitchen knife in her hand. Suddenly it was her that had cut her wrist, but it was me with the cut wrists. I had killed myself.

I woke up shortly after. I woke up and cried. I don’t know how to interpret this dream.

There are so many different factors. 1. I work with kids who are actively suicidal and though none of the ones I’ve worked with have committed suicide there have been some kids in the program who did. 2. I’ve been working so much. I just haven’t had time to myself for the past two weeks 3. I’m exhausted. Today I got 8 hours of sleep but since last thursday I had gotten a total of 20 hours of sleep. Stretch that over six days and it’s not very much. 4. I’m getting sick. 5. As much as I hate to say it, it may be due to PMS. My emotions are up and down like a roller coster 6. I may never be able to leave Vermont.

That’s a big deal. I’ve always wanted to travel and move to a different place. Maybe not forever, but at least for awhile. I probably won’t be able to do that. Dave’s (currently nonexsistant) position may not be transferable to another state and it doesn’t make sense for him to work there unless he’s making it into his career. That means that I have to choose between him and a dream that I’ve had for my entire life. I’ve picked him, but I feel like I’m giving so much up.

So maybe it wasn’t me that was committing suicide, maybe it symbolized the death of that idea.