Car Crash, Seeing ‘Friends’ and Being Fucked With


Image from The Telegraph But was taken by a dashcam

This morning I was awoken out of dream by my alarm but the dream hadn’t completed itself. It was frustrating because I would’ve liked to have seen where it would have actually ended.

From what I can remember now, it started with me driving somewhere while an old friend of mine’s sister-in-law was following me in her car. But then we pulled over at a busy intersection with not only vehicle traffic going on, but also pedestrian traffic as well. There were lots of stores and the area reminded me of how a city would look in the 40s. My friend’s sister-in-law and I spoke to each other about something I don’t remember and that was the end of that ‘scene.’

Next thing I know I’m in a car (a Mustang) in the passenger seat while someone, I’m not clear of who, was driving. (Maybe it was my friend’s sister-in-law.)  At one point when I was saying something to the driver, I looked over and saw s/he was gone. The car was driving itself in the dark on a long stretch of highway. At that point it was going under a long tunnel. Still in the passenger seat I realized (calmly) that I needed to get in the driver’s seat.

So I climbed over and attempted to take control of the wheel, but the car was going pretty fast and I found it difficult.  My visibility was low and it was dark. I was trying to slow down but the car seemed to have a mind of its own and wouldn’t let me. I put my seat belt on. The steering wheel shook.

While going at a high speed, suddenly my friend Jackie (someone I was close to in high school and some years after) was in the passenger seat and we were talking. What about? I don’t remember.

We came to a T in the road, where there was no going straight anymore, and only had the choice of going left or right. I slammed the brakes and turned the wheel to take the right turn but the car was going too fast to cut it.

The car skidded and I saw it careening toward people who were standing on the sidewalk in front of a building. When the car crashed into the side of that building, smashing the driver’s side, it just missed hitting the people.   After crashing into the wall, the car bounced off and flipped a few times. Somewhere in there, I mentioned to Jackie about putting her seat belt on because she hadn’t been wearing it.

The whole time I was calm though.

The car came to a rest on its tires and we got out of the car. Plenty of damage was done with dents and scrapes and scratches all over the car.

A man came over and said some things to Jackie that I don’t remember and took the car somewhere to look at it and possibly repair it.  I think the car was supposed to belong to my friend Jackie.

After that, staying in the same place, (which was this building where a bunch of us were gathered, vaguely remembering, it was like a social thing) I left that area and passed by a girl whom I’d been friends with in my junior year of high school.

I’d ruined the friendship in real life and that was picked up in the dream. She and I said hi though and I kept walking because I didn’t want to bother her, for one thing, but I am pretty sure I was looking for someone in particular or perhaps a group of people.

I came across my friend Topher who told me he was going to help me buy a car (I think.) We started to walk toward a door to leave and when we got there, I opened the door and walked out first. He let the door shut while he was still inside and when I turned around to see this, he laughed at me.

This was a clear message that he’d been bullshitting and playing with me and didn’t mean what he’d said. I remember feeling hurt and angry and also helpless.

After that I remember sitting on a rattan couch (or love seat kind of thing) and talking to Janet, the aforementioned friend from 11th grade, whom I’d ruined the friendship with. I remember feeling so anxious talking to her because, although I was happy to be talking to her, I knew it was fairly superficial. The closeness was gone and she was definitely not going to let me get too close.

This caused me to fight myself because I wanted things to be the way they were in high school between us. I wanted to say something, whatever would put things back to the way they were. But I also didn’t want to smother her, nor did I want to be rejected. It felt lonely and a little fake and I regretted so much what I had done to ruin the friendship. I just lapped up whatever time she’d give me and hope and try not to say anything wrong.

(NOTE: Yes, I was feeling this in the dream about an actual event with this friend while talking with her and spending whatever time she’d give me in the dream. In real life, I had really screwed up this friendship.)

After that, I walked into a room to gather some things that I guess belonged to me. I went to a sink, one of those deep sinks you see in a restaurant kitchen, which was full of water. From it, I picked up a couple round pieces of wood and something else I’m not clear on.

The measurement of the wood was the circumference of a telephone pole and about three feet in length.  I hoisted all of this over my right shoulder and walked through another room where people were sitting at long tables, almost like picnic tables, and talking.

As I started walking up a set of steps after crossing that room, I noticed Topher sitting at one of the tables talking to a woman.  I looked over at him with a hurt look on my face and when he glanced over at me, I looked away and continued walking up the steps, lugging those pieces of wood on my shoulder.

That’s when my alarm went off.

Once I started groggily reviewing the dream in my mind, I began to make other associations to things that had taken place in my life. I came to the conclusion that the behavior I’d displayed was very narcissistic.

I wanted to write the dream out right away but I needed to get over to visit a dog and get her outside and feed her breakfast.

The more time passed this morning, the more stunned I felt about the fact that as a result of my parents abuse, I’d not known how to be a friend and maintain a friendship. Not that I hadn’t known this already, especially logically. But the realization was penetrating deeper, into my soul maybe. My body went into defense though. I would have liked to have cried, but I’m still numb, hard like a wall.

Before sitting to write this, I just felt stunned.

Edit Friday 9/15/17: Reading through this again I took more notice of the parts involving a car. No one in the driver’s seat and crashing. Even driving someone else’s car. Lots there to be interpreted.


Renting Time

The last 13 years Mr. B and I have lived in a rented house where his sister is our landlord.

I’m feeling sad about moving and in the past couple weeks I’ve been pretty reactionary to things probably because I’m feeling the stress of leaving a place I’ve grown attached to. I’m also worried about where we will end up since the rent here has been a ‘steal’ given we’ve been renting from family.

In addition, we were here because Mr. B’s mom lived next door and the family wanted someone close by to tend to any needs she may have had.

Those needs were few and far between. It was a pleasure to live next door to her and she never wanted to “bother us.” I used to love to go visit in the afternoon once in a while and sit and chat. I would ask a question to get her talking and she’d tell me an interesting story about something from the past.

Mr. B did her grocery shopping on the weekends and cut her grass. The houses are attached twins and the properties are small, so it was easy to cut her grass while he cut ours.

She is now in an assisted living facility so having us here in this house is no longer necessary and Mr. B’s sister, being older now herself wants to sell the house we’ve been renting from her. She has already extended our limit once because she was busy getting the house next door sold for their mother, so she’ll have money to live on.

That house (mom’s place) is now sold and this house (the one we’ve been living in) will go on the market on September 1.

I’ve only ever mourned one place of residence before and I don’t even think I’d realized that was what was going on. This time I’m grieving two houses at once. It’s a strange feeling.

Heard From My Brother: What Would You Do?

I should probably process this more before I write about it, but I just received an email from my brother. Of course it was all about him and nowhere in the email did he ask me how I’m doing, what I’ve been doing, or anything indicating how fucked up everything was during the time my father was dying.

At the end of a rather long email, he said, “Please respond and let me know you are OK.”

The rest of the email was about what’s gone on for him since we last spoke a couple weeks after my father’s funeral in April of 2013.

My brother is a musician and works in his field. Part of what he does is play out as well as teach, which takes him to different parts of the area we are from. One of those parts/places is right here in my town…which I knew about already.

Edit Thursday 9/14/17: I don’t live in the town I was referring to anymore. He taught at a music store right in the same town at that time, which made me a bit anxious. But luckily I never did bump into him. Even though I moved though, I’m still in the same county and I drive to and through different towns throughout the county, including the one we grew up in, so the chances of running into him or my sister are fairly high.

I’m now feeling anxious because although there is a big part of me that wants to speak to my brother, I am cautious. I want to talk shit out and I want him to know how I felt during that whole time IF we do talk. I cannot and will not have a relationship with any family member at this point unless that shit is hashed out and gets resolved.

I appreciate that he feels that he can talk to me and tell me what he’s been doing. In fact he mentioned that he has also cut ties with our sister, which surprises me a little but then doesn’t at the same time. He said that she had been condescending of him and judgmental of his choices. I don’t doubt it for a second. She’s little miss perfect as far as she’s concerned.

I don’t feel strong enough to confront him at this point, while at the same time, I can’t go back to being the silent listener while he rambles on about his life. When we used to talk on the phone, he’d monopolize the conversation about his life. To be fair though, I really didn’t have a whole lot to tell about my own life, so I’d defer most of the time anyway. All I had to do was ask what was going on and he was off to the races. He’d talk and talk and talk. He was like a fucking teen-age girl. I kid you not.

I remember when I was in my early 20s and we were both still living at home, if he was on the phone, I’d have to ask him a bunch of times to get off, just so I could make a quick call to make whatever plans I was making.

I don’t mind listening about what he’s up to, or even about his trials and tribulations, to a point. What I mind is that he doesn’t come up for air and I can’t remember, out of all the times I spent talking to him on the phone in the past, him taking a breath and asking, “So how are you? What have you been up to?”

He has obviously figured out something is very wrong with our sister, but I doubt seriously he has put the tag of narcissism on it. Not that that matters and I certainly wouldn’t want that to be the basis of any relationship we might have. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’d love to compare notes. I’d like to know the experience he had that he is basing his thoughts and feelings on.

Edit 9/14/17: It does piss me off though that he couldn’t say something to the effect of, “Now I know what you were dealing with and how you felt about her when you tried to discuss (a certain incident) you had concerning her, with me. And I’m really sorry that I dismissed you and minimized your experience.

I just don’t know that I can have any sort of relationship with anyone who has told me that I am living in the past and needs to get over it. And I’m not so sure he has changed his stance on that. In fact I can be pretty sure he hasn’t. He’d have to apologize for it and let me know by elaborating that he means it. There would be more to it than that.

There would be lots to show by actions on his part. He raged at me about a year before my father got sick and that’s not something I can or will just sweep under the rug. So I’d need an apology for that behavior as well. In fact there was another incident of rage going years back when HE was late and never called and I wanted to know what the fuck happened. He actually came at me, walking fast with wide strides and his fist in the air.  He cornered me, I cowered. I went down, crouching and throwing my arms up over my head to protect myself.

In addition the way he treated me before our father died was unforgivable without any sort of an apology. And difficult to forgive WITH one.

As I write this, I think to myself, well maybe I should do what he just did. Write to him and tell him how I felt then and still feel.

But at worst, I’m afraid he’d show up to rage and bark at me like he did when I sent an email to my family about how I couldn’t understand how dad could love me when he treated me so horribly.

That was a complete emotional reaction, even though everything I said was true. As far as my family was concerned, I was the bad guy for that, never mind all the awful shit my father had done to me as a child, ruining me for adult life. In addition, my mother classified my brother’s threatening rageful behavior toward me as an emotional reaction, while my letter was apparently anything I do from emotion is unreasonable and something to be berated and judged.

I write about those additional topics elsewhere here on the blog. If you read and haven’t seen the posts yet, you’ll come across them. If I do again and remember, I’ll link them.

Edit 9/14/17: Another stinger about the email is that his next to last statement, right before he tells me to write back, he says, “Anyway sorry for the War and Peace but Holy Shit that felt good to get out!”
Like WTF? If he can’t get me on the phone to spew his life story, he’ll jam it in my face by writing an email. After reading this post again and reading only a little of the email again, I feel like a used whore for my own brother. I’m thoroughly disgusted.

Anyway, if you were in my shoes, what would you do?