Do you want to hear about my messed-up dream? Yeah you do.
There was a long dream about the Honcho last night. I haven’t dreamed about him for ages. When we were first together I used to have wish-fulfilment dreams featuring romantic scenes and then later I occasionally would have slightly more realistic dreams where the scene was romantic but his participation was ambivalent.
So here is last night’s little number. Thanks, brain.
The premise of the story was that we don’t have a relationship any more, just like now. Except that he had gone away for several days and for no good or sane reason had left me in charge of two things: a baby, belonging to him, aged about 1. A little girl. Secondly, a priceless vintage sports car. While he was away, I took the car out of the garage and drove it around. Bear in mind that I can’t drive. So I was veering all over the road and it was sheer luck that the car didn’t get totally pranged and written off. In fact, I even managed to drive it back to the garage where it was stored. But then I couldn’t get the garage open so I had to leave the car outside, even though it cost as much as the GDP of a small country and therefore was almost guaranteed to get stolen.
Back at the house, the Honcho returned from his trip. I changed the baby’s clothes and that’s when I realised that it was the wrong baby. I could tell because it was a boy. At some point while he was away I’d inadvertently swapped his baby for someone else’s and not even noticed. I thought it had slightly more hair than at the start of the week. I had to tell him. To my surprise, he took the news with a kind of calm fury as opposed to freaking out. Thinking that I had broken the worst news to him and that he was doing okay, I confessed about the car. That’s when he got really angry and wanted me out of the house.
On my way out of the imaginary house, his imaginary new girlfriend, a nice looking blonde girl, about 24, the girl-next-door type, looked at me sympathetically. I asked her if she wanted my number for the day that he started being horrible to her, at the six-month mark. And she asked me if I wanted her number because she is a therapist.
Fuck you, brain. Fuck you. I should not have to dream about this guy at all and if he does show up in my dreams, it should be in the context of me using my priceless sports car to run him over.
You know what I blame this on? Disraeli. I am going out of my way to be autocratic and unreasonable, and he seems normal and healthy enough that this behaviour ought to frighten him off, but it is not working. He is cautious but he is very excited about me and very intrigued. The threat of A Relationship is ongoing. I am antsy. I even told him that I wasn’t going to have sex with him this side of Easter and he still did not give up. Ah, life and love. It is all so complicated. If we were to ask the Honcho, he would say that being an unreasonable autocrat and withholding sex is a tried and tested, top-drawer strategy for getting people to fall in love with you. Let’s have a tune.
Do you hear what I’m saying? Gotta say how I feel.