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2.22.15 Dream, continued

February 25, 2015

I should have got up and walked into the bedroom, and shut the door, to write the earlier post. I had decided I was keeping Spouse company while he worked late (but then that lasted all night) and I ultimately went to bed before he did. He glowered and snarled the entire time, jangling my concentration.

I had unsettling dreams last night, sleeping fitfully.

Then again, maybe I needed to get all tangled up, to reach a state of mind where I could figure out what’s really going on here…

+++

Yesterday, I had an epiphany about myself and my good points. I’m not sure I’ll write about it on one of my blogs — I fear it would make me sound like an egomaniac.

But, you notice, I have no trouble writing about things about myself that make me feel terrible. That’s normal; that’s The Way The World Works/Is Supposed To Work. Me (potentially) feeling good about myself? A travesty. An abomination.

{O hai, Mrs. Nocerino – it’s been a while. I guess you’ve missed me. Yay.}

+++

Why is it that I felt good when I woke up from this dream; I felt good when I thought about writing about it; but when I did write about it, I ended it on a downer note?

It’s so hard to hold in my head the kind of world where the way I do things is a Good Way, a Good Way That Makes Sense and is Adaptive.

The rest of the world is constantly telling me that my ways of doing things are, in fact, defective, and I’m a freak, and I just need to learn how to be effective by doing stuff I can’t do, in ways I can’t do it . . . as if that were within my power.

Even if it were something I could do, I wouldn’t.

I’m never going to win/place/or show in a system that’s rigged against people like me. And I profoundly do not care about the standard conceptions of win/place/or show anyway.

I want to Do My Stuff, in My Ways. That’s fun for me. That’s how I learn and enjoy myself. (Which is somewhat redundant.)

That’s what did happen in this dream.

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