Dream And Cricket

I had a really vivid dream last night. My maternal grandparents were there. We were staying in an unfamiliar house reminiscent of a seaside hotel. I was sitting on a deckchair outside when a man appeared – early forties, medium height, with a hatch of blond hair and something of a sociopath about him, perhaps his unctuous manner which made me very wary. He insisted I go and get changed for there was someone who wanted to meet me. I remained sat in my chair until he came closer and with a menacing  look in his eye suggested I do as I was told, then disappeared.  I went inside and started rummaging through rows and rows of wardrobes – all white with inbuilt shelves, and great big heavy doors. Unable to find what I was looking for I started panicking  at which time my grandparents appeared. The two of them stood in the middle of the room while I was scurrying about in a frenzy, going from one wardrobe to the next and shouting: ‘My mother’s been at my things again, that’s why I can’t find it!’ I don’t remember what it was I was looking for but I remember I couldn’t find it. I felt the rage towards my mother intensify as I went from one wardrobe to the next. My grandparent's tried to calm me down, but my anger wouldn’t subside. I then began to pick up various garments and reject them without trying, convinced they were too small. Then came the thought: ‘I need to stop eating, again. I need to stop eating.’ Completely overwhelmed I threw myself on the bed and started sobbing, but soon remembered I had to get changed so I did;  in to a skirt of some kind and a pair of opaque black tights. Dressed and ready to leave I realised it was Thursday and that I hadn’t been to work thus pleaded with my grandmother to ring my mother and tell her I had been unwell. My grandmother was about to make the phone call when I woke up. I’m not entirely sure why I felt the need to justify my missing work to my mother, but I felt her omnipresence throughout the dream. I don’t quite know what the dream meant, if anything at all, but I realise that even in my subconscious my mother is someone who I associate with  mental anguish.

I had a number of unpleasant conversations with Cricket on Wednesday. He rang and rang until I finally picked up. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’ He demanded. ‘Because I didn’t fell like it’ I replied. ‘Are you coming to the gig?’ He said. ‘No’ I replied He slammed the phone down. I was glad because it meant I didn’t have to endure anymore of his tiresome whining. Two minutes later he rang back. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to get so upset.’ I took a sigh and said ‘Whatever’. The conversation took a turn for the worse when he started going on about how ‘let down’ he feels and how much he misses me. I told him to get a grip and get over it, and also that I didn’t want to talk. ‘What, ever?’ He said, in a panic. ‘Ever’ I replied and put the phone down. He phoned again and left a voicemail, something about ‘caring’ and ‘being worried’. I didn’t even listen all the way through. I didn’t hear from him yesterday which I thought was a really good sign, but he got in touch again today. ‘I missed you’ he cried. ‘It’s only been a bloody day!’ I snapped back. ‘But I still missed you’ he assured me, and then went on reassuring for a good ten minutes. Worst of all, he started apologising for putting pressure on me, and for putting the phone down and for being too intense and too impatient. I told him I've had enough as I was becoming increasingly exasperated with his apologies and furthermore with his pathetic attempts to ‘get back in to my good books’. I told him I didn’t want any further contact, I said we were not ‘meant to be’, I also reminded him yet again that I’d appreciate if he fucked off. He didn’t seem to take any of it on board, but I guess time will tell.

2.6.07 00:55