Still Dreaming.

Returning to the real world soon. Look homeless. No shower. No motivation. Seriously, at this rate I’m throwing on clothes and a messy bun. Good enough for me.

I’ve got the gun safety class I teach tonight and it’s time. I don’t even want to think of the disarray from missing practices. I’m tired of doing it, yet I know the only way it’s done correctly is if I do it myself. Frustrating. I wish good volunteers still existed in the world and others would step forward. Someday. One can dream.

Tomorrow – Back to work in an actual office. It really isn’t much different considering I work alone. But no soft couch or a bed when I want to sleep. Ha.

The dreams – They are back. Yay. During Covid they went away. I’m assuming that’s because my body was so exhausted. Now that the fatigue is slowly getting better then normal nightmare/dreams exist again. More dreams about Captain Douche than I care to admit. Not good dreams. Not happy dreams. He’s always a douche. Always using substances. Always being mean. And I’m generally always watching for him or looking for him or checking his location. I know. Bizarre. It’s like my brain is in overdrive of “I must know where he is to be safe” mode. Last night the dreams turned to Atlas – the rescue dog I’m in love with – and seeing a post they decided to quit fixing him and put him down. And I was so mad and sad as I wanted him fixed. I checked on Atlas today – He’s doing great and won’t ever be put down. Stupid dreams.

Two days until refinancing. Hopefully. That’s the anticipated date. Maybe the dreams will get better then. Maybe they will get better when it’s really done. I thought a signed decree was the magic moment. Obviously not. Hopefully when all ties are broken it gets better. If not – I’ll just do therapy. Forever. That’s fine too. I like therapy. Even when it sucks.

I’ve decided against putting on different clothes. Comfy yoga pants and messy bun it is.