So, after last week’s feelings of isolation and loneliness, Jared and I made up and his hours are getting a little better so things are ok on that front. Last Friday night, we had the opening of one of his bars and I got black out drunk/high for the first time in nearly two months (very disappointed with myself but trying not to dwell on it). Then on Wednesday we had to put one of our dog’s to sleep, which was fucking horrible. But on Tuesday… Tuesday, my brain threw a real curveball at me.
We’d had dinner at Jared’s new restaurant, an impromtu date night. With his hours looking to gradually improve, I floated the idea of us possibly starting dating again, which we both agreed was a possibility once we have more time. We got home, went to bed and all was well in the world until I woke up, sobbing, from a very vivid dream where Jared had cheated on me and/or left me for another women. I not quite certain how it ended in the dream aside from the fact that we were talking about his relationship with ‘her’ and then he literally turned and ran away from me. You know how dreams can do that vague thing where you wake up absolutely certain of something but not quite sure of the details of how you got there? Yep, that’s what happened.
Isn’t the brain a wonderful thing? We talk about seeing other people and my brain thinks, ‘hmmmm now’s my chance!’, goes off searching for the worst possible scenario and then throws it at me while I’m powerless to escape or rationalise. I woke up convinced Jared was cheating on me. CONVINCED, I tell you. When my crying woke him up, he went to get me some water and my brain whispered ‘He’s going to tell her that you’re onto him. He’s buying time to think of what to say.’ All this from a brain that’s meant to be on my side.
It took me a long time to calm down and get back to sleep simply because the dream was so fucking vivid. I had to talk myself down to the stage where I was able to refute the thoughts running round in my head, never mind being sleep ready. It was fucked. And let me just state that I don’t actually believe that he’s cheating on me (I suppose you can never be 100% sure but it’s not a real concern of mine). It’s more the way my brain just totally took my greatest fear and used it against me like in Witches of Eastwick where Jack Nicholson uses the witches greatest fears against them (I’m probably showing my age here but I’ll be damned if Cher, Susan Sarandon and Michelle Pfeiffer aren’t hot as FUCK in that movie). Yep, my brain is Jack Nicholson AKA the devil. Can you believe this shit?