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A Boy, A Girl, and The Marine Corps: A Love Triangle: A bad dream

A Boy, A Girl, and The Marine Corps: A Love Triangle

"I cast my lot with a Marine and where he was, was home to me." ~ Anonymous.

Monday, April 5, 2010

A bad dream

I had a very intense dream last night.

I’m at a family gathering. We are in a state park of some kind in the woods eating at picnic tables and outside of RV’s. My husband and I are laughing and enjoying our time with my family.

In real life, I have a brother, who is estranged from me. In this dream, my brother, though not really him, is there. He is not close to me, but we are talking.

My father, in real life, owns an original 442 car that may be the only one left in the world. We have never found another like it. In my dream, he is finally fixing it up. He has the engine with him and is telling us it cost more than what the car is worth. He is fixing it up to sell it to my brother, who owns a junk/trinket yard, so my brother can sell it to some unsuspecting soul for a fortune.

My husband comes to me and announces he is buying a motorcycle that my brother has for sale. I have no idea what the price it, but I know the bike. It’s a black, vintage Indian. It runs and looks beautiful. I know it must cost a lot. I tell him no. I’m furious. Who buys something like that without asking his wife. I tell him, “no way, just yesterday at the grocery store, you wouldn’t let me buy things because you said we were broke! You said we didn’t have enough money and needed to save!” I’m screaming at him! I yell, “if you buy that bike, I will divorce you!” I’m livid! He tells me he is buying the bike anyway. That there is nothing I can do to stop him.

Me, being me, won’t take that kind of answer. So I rush to my brother and buy his whole shop, including the van he drives that has the shops info on it.

I drive to the shop. It’s exactly like a movie. It’s run down, shutters hanging on hinges. It’s long like a motel, except there is only one entrance. There are rows of shelves inside with every kind of junk and trinket you can imagine. The outside has stacks of tires and mounds of car parts. There is even a little out building where a show can be put on to entertain kids while their parents look. It’s right off an old highway, as if to say, a long time ago, this was a great stop, until the freeway got put in and people stopped traveling here.

I beat my husband to the shop. When he arrives, he comes with friends. I tell him what I have done and that the bike is no longer for sale. I will never sell it to him. He is as furious as I am.

At this point I wake up (still angry) and realize that it is only 7:15am and I don’t need to be up for another hour or so. I toss and turn for a while trying to shake off the anger from dream and not be mad at my husband for something I made up in my mind.

When I fall back asleep, my dream picks back up, as dreams often do.

I am at the shop. People are everywhere. We are very busy. But time has passed. My husband and I are now getting divorced. There is tension between us. I still love him, but he has ignored me for too long. He is so obsessed with “good finds” that he can sell and fixing up my dads car and getting that bike, that he never pays attention to me. I can no longer be married to a man who loves “stuff” more than me.

I’m furious that he is at my shop. I’m angry that he is trinket hunting. Some of my family and friends seem to be there to. They are talking to me, but I don’t know about what. My dream gets a bit fuzzy here. There are things going on and people talking, but I can’t concentrate on them, all I see is my husband, going through piles of stuff. Then it gets really fuzzy and I can’t even see that any more.
The next step I can clearly see, is myself. I am dejectedly walking away from the interior of the shop where my husband is digging. I walk into an entry way. A nook that has a bench and a row of shoes. I sit on the bench and begin trying to put some rubber boots on. It is kinda muddy outside. The man sitting next to me is a friend. (he is really a guy I barely know that is in my class) He tells me something about my husband that I can’t remember. He tells me something about him missing me. He says that my husband loves me. I look at my husband from the doorway. He looks up at me, sorta sad. Then he looks back down and gets excited about something he has found and starts talking very animatedly to his friend standing next to him. I look at this friend sitting next to me and say, “yes, that is true, but there is always another treasure to find.” As I finish my sentence, he says it too, knowing all too well that I am right and that that is why our marriage is failing.

I walk outside and decide that nothing is for sale today. I have my employees make the announcement. I don’t care what you have found or what it costs, I will not sell anything to anyone today. It’s because I don’t want to sell anything to my husband. I’m angry again. I feel outraged, as I imagine someone would, in the middle of a divorce, when they are still in love, and don’t want to let go, but have to.

I go to my van and start putting things in the back to hide them. Then I see my husband and his friends walking across the way, toward a picnic table that is out front (for guests on long road trips, so they can take a break). I casually walk over to them. I see that my husband has brought a girlfriend with him. A romantic one. I am heartbroken. Part of me still wants this marriage to work. I’m holding out hope that he will see what he is doing and apologize and change because he loves me so much. But I’m still being petty.

I walk over and say something along the lines of, “did you notice I stopped selling when you found something good?” I’m trying to get him riled up. I tell him, “I stopped selling things so you couldn’t buy anything.” He girlfriend jumps in, as they often do and starts trying to get in my face about everything. I warn her that I am not to be messed with because I will hit her. She dares me too, so I punch her in the face. She eggs me on, sayimg I didn’t hit hard, so I broke her nose with my fingers. I grabbed her by the hair and soccer punched her in the gut. I told her to stay out of what was between me and my husband. She backs down.

I walk to him. I stand very close. I can feel his breath. I whisper, so low that I can hardly hear myself. My voice comes out raspy, like I need a drink of water. It’s hard to form words, my throat is so dry. I simply ask, “Why?” “Why couldn’t you love me? I loved you, why couldn’t you love me?”

It felt like it took years to get those sentences out. I stood waiting for a response. My heart sinking lower as each second he said nothing passed. We stood there, nose to nose, and I realized it was getting dark outside. But as I realized it was getting dark out side, and I was growing sadder, the light of the morning started to shine through and I woke up, without an answer.

I felt heartbroken when I woke up. I felt like, if he could just have answered me, everything would have been fine. And now, I’m in a bad mood.

3 Comments:

Blogger Renee said...

I stumbled on your blog - I'm sorry that you have a bad dream! I HATE when deams feel so real that they deeply leave a mark.

It was a DREAM.

:o) I hope you have a great day!

April 6, 2010 at 10:58 AM  
Blogger luckygirl said...

wow! you're really good at remembering your dreams! sounds like a doozy - i hate when i have ones that stay with me like that

April 8, 2010 at 12:10 PM  
Blogger Mr. Superman & Mrs. S. said...

I'm a newbie follower and fellow mil wifey. First off, so excited to have a new blog friend, second, horrible dream! I'm sorry!

♥ Mrs. S.

April 9, 2010 at 9:55 AM  

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