Sunday, May 25, 2008

Paging Doctor Freud...

I just took a nap and had a crazy dream about the kid in Greensboro.

In this dream, we were in a relationship and lived in my huge house. Some of my other friends were there but for the purposes of the dream were kind of nameless/faceless, except for B from Charlotte, who advised me to be careful because the kid was leaving everything on, unlocked, and bringing in shit like butterflies and other little critters.

Well we and all these people went to one of those things that’s like a mystery novel dining out experience. Where you participate in solving the mystery while you have dinner, you know what I’m talking about? Except this was like a combination of that and a haunted house. Me and the kid were having a great time in there, jumping around and I jumped on his back and he carried me through a lot of it, especially the one part where some straw in the middle of one of the rooms caught fire. It was all weird and moving fast, I lost my bags (for some reason I was carrying two – my real bag that I carry all the time and a bag that I had YEARS ago that I no longer have in real life). But it was okay because the woman at the check in desk had it, who happened to be the woman who plays the receptionist on Ugly Betty.

In reality, outside of the dream world, the boy got all weird on me in anticipation of my arrival in NC from NY, talking about how he has feelings for me, how I can’t possibly feel the same, and how he I don’t “try” like he does whatever that means. I told him I feel like the one getting overbearing about the whole thing with my attempts at contact which are brief. All this is through fucking text messages. He told me to call him yesterday so I did, when I said I would, around six.

All he really says during that call is “wassup” and “let me call you back in a couple of seconds.”

Well I’m here to tell you that it’s now about 24 hours later and I have not received that call back, nor have I heard at all other than seeing him online like the stalker I can become. WHAT’S THAT ABOUT. Maybe the boy came to his senses and changed his mind which in the end is better for everybody. But I’m all tore up about it, but I’ll get over it.

Meanwhile my roommate just called because something is wrong with the oven and she wanted the super’s number. She was going to bother the neighbor’s about this shit. JUST MAKE DUE, you know, until I get back. I don’t like the super up in there while I’m away, but anyway, I told her to go to his front door if she must. I will be so glad when I’m done with that living, breathing headache, and I will live in a box on High Point Road before I have a roommate again.

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