September 15, 2005 at 6:18 pm (Uncategorized)

They travel in the time of the prophets
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone
We’re only at home when we’re on the run

They travel on the road to redemption
A highway out of yesterday — that tomorrow will bring
Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring
We’re only at home when we’re on the wing

When we are young
Wandering the face of the Earth
Wondering what our dreams might be worth
Learning that we’re only immortal
For a limited time

Time is a gypsy caravan
Steals away in the night
To leave you stranded in Dreamland…

Selected lyrics from Dreamline by Rush


Perhaps you may infer from yesterday’s post that Jeff has been on a roll. Following my FIFTH conversation with him yesterday, I was finally able to take three Ibuprofen, the ones that will eat the lining of my stomach, which did nothing for the general ill feeling I get talking to him sometimes, and go to bed. (The reason I talk to him instead of ignoring his calls is it is better than him showing up at my house and me having to call the police.)


Back in the days of the Ex-Drunk-Boyfriend Holland, I had a reoccurring dream. In the dream, I was always driving a vehicle on a treacherous WV highway, in the mountains, the roads slick with rain, gravel strewn in the U-pin turns. I’ve seen that road a thousand times. Always, I would lose control of the vehicle I was driving, sliding in the rain and on the gravel, and go over the side of the mountain.

I didn’t wake up when I went over the mountain. Instead, I watched as trees and brush whipped past and I was bounced against the inside of the vehicle. Then I would wake up. I can’t tell you how frightening it was to go over that mountain and the feeling of falling, which I relate to my fear of heights.

One night I started losing control of that vehicle but I was able to stop it, skidded to side, on the berm, but I didn’t go over the mountain. I never had that particular dream again.


Another reoccurring symbol in my dreams is railroad tracks. Given I’ve lived next to, across from, or in close proximity to railroad tracks my entire life, I guess that may not be surprising. Yet, I equate the driving and tracks as a pulse point for my life.

I’ve dreamt of Holland and I by the railroad tracks, with a car. My reoccurring over-the-mountain dream. I once dreamt I was blind and driving until I came through a tunnel into the light.

Not all my dreams are symbolic. I did dream that my niece Annie was indeed a niece, compared to another nephew. I had another dream which was quite literal yet I can’t recall what it is now. I should, I know, write them down. Kristin just sent me a lovely journal, not to mention my blog. I am writing this one down.

Last Night

The dream was that I was a passenger in a blue mini-van, driven by a woman I didn’t know. For some reason, she was turning us around in the road and ended up backing over the edge of the riverbank, and naturally, down we went into the muddy, rolling waters until we got to the other side and flipped upside down and then right side up… guess where? NEXT TO THE RAILROAD TRACKS!!! Almost on the tracks and I could hear the train whistle in the distance. Funny thing is, we weren’t the only ones. Another two or three vehicles ended up there after floating down the river.

I don’t need a dream interpretation. I know being a passenger symbolizes passivity. The river symbolizes taking control of my life. The water itself, brown, choppy represents a lack of emotional clarity and being emotionally overwhelmed. And of course, the whole deal of going backwards, I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to know that means repeating the past.

All of the above, a reaction to the turbulence of dealing with Jeff.

Yes, he was in the driver’s seat yesterday. My emotions were all over the map and when he finds a crack in my armor he attacks with a vengeance. Its all my fault, everything is my fault, and we couldn’t even agree to disagree. He was being as ugly, relentless, dark, moody, and dirty as a flood.

The good news is, the train tracks represent being well received by friends and travel.

I don’t think its indicative of where my life is going right now, merely a glimpse at where it was and where it could go again if I fail to hold my ground and be sucked into a past which is just that, the past. Its not something I can repeat, nor care to. I can’t change it. No matter how much he holds onto it, and the hurt, whether real or imagined, will continue to be picked at until it festers.

Always his hurt, always his pain, always my fault. Reality is our perception plus a distortion of the truth. Some of us are just a bit more distorted than others.

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