why were you in my dream, John Barrowman?
last night I had one of those very vivid, detailed dreams. I woke up hoping it wouldn't just slip away, but give me time to ponder hidden symbols, so I'm at my computer earlier than I wanted to be.
my ex was in the dream, and so was my mother. we all lived in an apartment. it was the same apartment I lived in with my ex when I decided to divorce him.
during the dream, I obsessively gathered trash and recyclables and transported them to their respective bins behind the building, between rebuffing my ex's advances. most of the encounters with him in the dream were typical of real life ones, and most are hazy at this point but one stands out vividly because it is a composite of two of the worst events of my marriage.
I was drawing a bath for my child, sitting on the edge of the same tub where in real life he'd left her to scald as a toddler. he came and sat behind me and leaned into me. leaning on me, btw, was offensive in and off itself since he was always significantly heavier than me and completely unaware that my slight frame couldn't support his weight.
"here, let me help you," he said, breathing heavily into my ear.
I was repulsed. he had a thing about breathing into my ear, as if I liked it, which I never did, although telling him that never made a difference. on top of that, those were the words he said to me in real life right before he attacked me for the final time.
I sprung to my feet and screamed at him. I screamed that I don't need his help, that I don't want his help, and that he should leave me the fuck alone.
my mother was there. she appeared magically after every altercation. for every one of his infractions, no matter what I'd said or done to defend myself, she explained to him as if talking to a child how inappropriate his behavior was and what I liked and didn't like. I always left while she was talking to go find trash and recyclables.
once he followed me out to the bins to harass me. I freaked out and started punching him in the face. each of my punches fell a mere fraction of an inch from meeting his flesh, and although I never actually got to hit him, he wore a look of fear. in frustration, I finally left and walked toward the woods behind my building.
that's when I saw John Barrowman, in the role of a somewhat capricious and elemental superhero who'd been zapping people off and on throughout several dreams last night.
of course he was dressed like Captain Jack Harkness, standing on the bed of a truck at the controls of a powerful weapon. it was almost as if fire and spotlights illuminated him. the weapon was pointed in my direction, so I ran (having seen many people zapped with it throughout the night).
as I ran into the woods, I realized he was not pointing it at me, but was waiting for something, just standing there like he was prolonging an epic moment. I found a bit of high ground to crouch on and waited to see what in world he was going to do.
suddenly he yelled "there's nothing more beautiful than when two points meet to create a new lake" and fired the weapon at the ground near the edge of the woods. water poured from the hole he made, running into low places and more or less in my direction.
I looked behind me, and discovered that I was on a hill above the neighbor's driveway, the end of which had also sprung forth a flow of water coming in my direction.
with a quick survey of my surroundings, I determined that the water from the two springs would soon fill the low spots near the edge of the woods and meet around the high point where I was standing, leaving me stranded on a small island, so I jumped across the stream gushing from under my neighbor's driveway and strolled toward my place, although I didn't really want to go there.
as I walked, the dream turned into a musical with a crescendo of music. silvery steel-blue mer-people leapt from the murky water of the new lake in a wild ballet. streamers flowed from trees. a mer-couple embraced as the maid sung, Disney style, about her love for her mer-man Benjamin.
naturally I woke up at that point.