For the past several weeks, I’ve had detailed, horrendous nightmares of Mr. W either really pissing me off or breaking my heart. I don’t remember all the dreams, but upon awakening, I’d tell him about it. More often than not it included themes of betrayal. This morning, for example, I dreamt that he and I were walking down an old-fashioned street (like back in old Ireland) and he told me that within the past week he’d met a girl who was “very very Korean” (I think that’s his way of saying she was fobby) and that there was mutual interest, and they went out once, altho he did tell her he was “married.” He paused, realizing his slip at characterizing our relationship as a marriage, and recovered with, “err, in a relationship.” In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that we were separated or on the rocks or something, but I said, “So you went and had a date with someone else when you’re technically still in this relationship with me?!” He looked solemn and sheepish. I turned away from him and ran down the street. As I ran, I marveled at my courage of being able to just run and leave him behind instead of standing there with him, a blubbering crying mess, begging him to fix things between us, but at the same time, I was also upset that he was letting me run away and not chasing after me.

“I think my subconscious doesn’t like you very much,” I told Mr. W.
“I think your subconscious wants drama, and since I’m not giving it to you, you’re making it up,” he said.
“I don’t like drama! I can’t handle it anymore! That’s why I didn’t even want a boyfriend!”
“Well, you’re used to drama.”
Those dreams better not come true.