Yay For Sick Dreams!

It’s 4:20 am and I have just woken up from a nyquil induced sick dream.  It was just… wow… yeah.  I decided I’d write it down really quick before deciding if I’m going to head to work today or if I’m going to stay home and be sick… prolly going to go to work, already stayed home once from this cold.

In the dream, Court and I had split up… it was mostly mutual and he was living with Mom and I was living elsewhere, mainly because I wanted to get out on my own and he didn’t want to live alone up here, and Mom didn’t want to live alone… which is how it is and a good arrangement, if I say so myself.  But I had come home to my mom’s house with a bottle of alcohol and some chocolates (which were given to me by a cute girl as a way of saying “thank you” for helping her set her friend up with a date) and when I got through the door, my dad was sleeping on the floor.  I looked at Mom and Court, who looked back at me and I handed off the alcohol and chocolates and woke my dad up.  My first words to him in years were, “Hi Dad, I left you a message on Facebook.”

He got up and sat down on the couch and we exchanged pleasantries. It seemed he had a new girlfriend, who was 17, and had a baby boy by her.

“So.  I have a new half brother.”
“No.  Your sister and brother do.”
“Doesn’t matter.  He’s still my half brother.  He’s your son, and I’m your daughter.  Let him know, when he’s old enough and curious that he’ll be welcomed, at least by me, with open arms.  I won’t be like your other children.”

He had brought me a half dozen DVDs on the Hawaiian language and the Hawaiian beliefs and the like… stuff that he knew that I would like.  I told him that he wasn’t going to leave until he heard what I had to say.  I went into my old bedroom and grabbed a letter that I had wrote him.  I came out of the room and sat down on a chair.  He sat on the couch still, and I read.

“Dear Dad,
As of this, you’ve been gone for five years, six months, and 21 days.”

It goes on a bit and then starts talking about the family… About how Ben was a transient, how he was a thief and a habitual liar.  About how he burnt all the bridges here because of the thieving.  About how he wanted to write about all his adventures, and all of the people that he was meeting, about how he was carrying only a knife and a battered notebook with him from place to place.  I told him about how he’d be proud of Ben, how he was growing up just like his father, starting with pot, and moving up the heroin, and then to cocaine.  By this time, Dad was crying silently.  I continued on with Maili, and about how Pot had stolen all of her motivation, about how she was happy enough as a store manager at a fast food joint, and she smokes pot so she doesn’t end up drinking beer and becoming violent, just like her dad.

Then I told him about Mom about how Mom is living with my ex boyfriend and a half dozen hamsters because she can’t stand living alone, about how she has no trust in anyone anymore.  I told him in great detail how she was shattered by him, ground to pieces by him for years and years about how I worked for years to get her up to the point she is now, but how she’ll probably never let anyone get close to her again because of his shit.

And finally, I told him about me… about how my reality was shattered by his words and actions, about how family failed me and how I felt that I failed family by being human.  I told him about the suicide attempts, the self affliction of pain.  I told him about my giving myself over to someone else so they can hurt me because I was too much of a coward to hurt myself at times.  I told him about the doctors, the mental anguish, and everything… laid it all open at his feet.  I was crying, he was crying, and I continued… telling him everything…

Until I woke up.