I don’t often remember my dreams. I’m not sure why; that’s just how it’s always been for me. And on the rare occasion I do remember one, it’s disturbing. Unsettling.

You can read past “dream” posts here, here, and here.

As I understand the basic idea of dreams, they’re basically our unconscious working to sort shit out while the rest of our brain is resting. Some people seem to have “happy dreams.” They get to fly around. Or fulfill some other waking fantasy.

Me? I get my spiteful, mean-spirited psyche poking at me.

Seriously

So, last night’s dream was brief. Just a quick snippet.

I was at a mall… or something. It doesn’t really matter. In the dream, I think I’m with friends, though they don’t appear in the scene. We’re headed somewhere and as we’re moving along, a cute blonde approaches me and asks if I’d like to have dinner with her.

Nice, right? Nope.

Immediately, I politely decline without breaking my stride. And that’s the end. That’s basically the whole thing.

Except that I woke up with the additional memory of feeling that she must have been selling something. Or she otherwise wanted something. There’s no way it was a legit date request. How could it be?

That’s how I woke up this morning. Happy new day to me!

During my waking hours, I do my best to keep busy to keep errant thoughts like these at bay. But when I’m asleep, I’ve no control and so my mean-spirited psyche takes over. And kicks me in the grapes.

Dating: Why Bother?

Mean-spirited psyche aside, this type of thinking is pretty standard for me. Maybe not the suspicious, conspiratorial dating-for-an-angle notion. But the idea that the window for me to find “someone” has long since closed on me.

I’ve only been in one relationship I’d call “serious” and it was short-lived and platonic. So, I’m not sure it really counts. What’s more, it was two decades ago.

Since moving to Hawaii, I can count on one hand the dates I’ve been on. Each one, a one-and-done thing. And all of those took place over a decade ago. It was around the same time I swore off dating.

I acknowledged not everyone gets a relationship. Let alone marriage and a family. I accepted my bachelorhood as fact and moved on to other focuses in my life.

In that time, I’ve tried to explain the notion to a handful of people. Including my now-retired therapist.

I could, I think, write a book on my thoughts about dating and all the ways in which I’m damaged. Suffice it to say I see no point in dating as it will always end in rejection and disappointment.

As The Rolling Stones famously put it: You can’t always get what you want.

Self-Esteem

Since I was in high school, I wanted (maybe too much) to be coupled. To be in a relationship.

As a (somewhat more) well-adjusted adult, with years of therapy under my belt, I understand now that desire was an over-compensating result of my depression and low self-esteem. I was convinced it was the only way I would “be loved.”

With a (somewhat) healthier self-image now, I don’t “need” a relationship the way I did as a wayward teenager. Though the desire occasionally arises, I am for the most part happy with my single life. Would I like to be married or in a committed relationship? Sure. But just like I’ve accepted I’ll never be comfortable financially (let alone wealthy), or that I’ll very likely never own my own home, I accept that I will forever be single.

That’s ok. One of the things therapy taught me was not to pine for things I won’t have. These are, to some extent, a result of choices I’ve made. I will always struggle to be financially comfortable because I don’t care all that much about money. Which means I likely won’t ever make enough (at least not as long as I remain in Hawaii) to ever own my own home.

I will forever and always be single (and somewhat alone) because of train car of baggage I have and the irreparably damaged psyche of mine.

Acceptance

Therapy didn’t “fix” me in the way I had originally hoped. But I think it did one better; it taught me to accept myself, flaws and all.

Yes, there may be things about my psyche I can continue to repair. I will always be damaged, though. And I think the ways in which I am the most damaged mean I will remain single.

I work hard to accept that as my reality and most days I succeed. There’s more to life than relationships, sex, and having a family. For the most part, I am happy with my life. Though sometimes it is a very real struggle.

Though I am sometimes reminded by life about that part that’s missing, I can usually shake it off. But it’s really fucking annoying (and spiteful) when my own subconscious reminds me of that longing that remains.

This stupid cute-blonde-participating-insecurity-laden dream is something I could very much do without.

My mean-spirited psyche can, quite simply, go. Fuck. Itself.