2001:June:13
2001
This morning I had a long, drawn out dream of Dagmar and Zach and other friends. (This is weird because I don't think I've ever dreamt of them before. They are minor friends. I do look on them as the most glamorous, cosmopolitan, fun, perfect parent material -and I don't say this about just anyone believe me- couple I know.) I dreamt that Dagmar and Zach moved back to Wilmington. They were miserable. For some reason Raleigh was now nine hours away. They were putting up a brave face, but I could tell something was up. Dagmar was really snippy and she and Jill palsy-walsyied me out of their group. I had that feeling of again being the member of a group of three friends that just didn't fit in and the others only liked when it suited them or when I had a temper tantrum. Luckily, I had my 29-year old wisdom and instead of being terribly hurt, I was able to say "Fuck it". That was the major theme of the dream: constant rejection of me by Dagmar, Bo, Jill, and Zach. I finally got Dagmar alone in the dream and realized it was my chance to impress her enough that she may like me. I made efforts to be real and sincere and engaging. Their situation was much like I perceive Greg's to be but theirs was fast forwarded. They moved to Wilmington to be with friends and the beach and ended up being totally miserable. Their house was in some far reaches of Sunset Park. It was OK pretty on the outside with loads of interesting facets. There was no yard except for that southern, white trash weed look. The yard also had these concrete rounded dark gray square pavers on most of the yard. It created a sort of huge, uncovered patio area. They had a chain link fence. When I was inside I noticed that although Zach said he was getting a great job based on his proven citysearch skills, there were ads cut out for ocean-type jobs like boat assistant, marina assistant, mate on a fishing vessel, etc. It was sad. Dagmar could not maintain cool, and by the end of the dream, she was frazzled. No wonder, she had a husband with no job, her office was nine hours away, and her house looked like horror. (In real life, Dagmar and I may only share one true interest and it's architecture and aesthetics of the home). The house reminded me of those awful, dingy beachhouses my family would sometimes rent. The kind that was cheap in every way and dark on the inside with film on the windows and musty. Dagmar had tried to cutey it up, but as I was passing a room she hadn't shown me, I noticed it had orange shag carpet and brown, beige, and orange linoleum on the walls. It was hideous and I felt in displayed the utter work involved in changing your life. I gasped and confronted her. She broke down a bit, but then ostracized me again. She and Zach and Bo and Jill and her father and stepmother were going out on a boat ride from their dock slip (oh yes, the house had potential), and I was not invited.
