this is me trying to not be an ungrateful wench, but failing miserably.
i get to go see ryan adams do his rockstar thing tomorrow night. i get to go to work in the morning. i get to work at a job where my talent and ambition is noticed more and more with each passing day.
i get to drive to work in a new truck. i get to sleep in a bed with flannel sheets and too many pillows. i get to sleep under a roof listening to sappy romantic music as i drift off.
today i got spend time with sister #4 and she made me dinner. i got to wake up.
yet somehow as this deep, dark black sunday drags on that’s not enough. perhaps i am much too greedy.
because tonight i could have really gone for being important or special– i’d have loved to hear someone sing my praises or maybe just have someone who wanted to talk to me. i’m blaming this mood on the wretched, wretched dream i had last night. a dream that left me feeling so very alone and sad when i woke up.
last night i dreamt that i lived in this giant, fabulous, swanky apartment in minneapolis. i had a walk out patio thing where i could overlook the river and there was a man in my bed. only thing is the man in my bed didn’t like me too much and whenever i touched him he would freeze up. in my dream this man said mean, cold things to me that made me lonely and sad and spend much time on that patio watching the river and wondering what it was about me that was so damn unlovable. in my dream i just cried and cried and the man in my bed didn’t even care.
and in my dream i had a bunch of tickets to see rufus wainwright only i couldn’t find anyone to go with me so i had to just give them away. and in my dream i was a little sad at the concert because i didn’t have anyone to share it with and when i got home the man in my bed wasn’t happy to see me at all and i just spent the rest of the night on the patio looking at the river.
this was a dream.
that’s what i have to keep telling myself.