Sunday 27 February 2011

Nightmare on Boughton Hall Avenue

I know as humans we feel (are meant to feel- occasional male exceptions) emotion. So I guess its reassuring that we get emotional and if emotion does nothing other than toy with us, at least it proves we're still alive. Still with me?

To cut a long story short last night I experienced one of the worst emotional triggers, the nightmare. It wasn't dark, full of death or anything horror related, it was simply a glimpse of a guy I once dated (the inspiration behind How to be a dick 101- shame he didn't have one and What happens when a guy says he loves you) hand in hand with a girl he had a lot of history with and he then turned round and shot me a huge smile that illustrated the deceitful bastard that he really was.

The scariest thing wasn't the nightmare at all, it was the anxiety of waking up and thinking "Why am I dreaming about this man?"

Its odd because at 22 I considered myself more aware of the male species, and more homed in on what's good and what's bad about them. But sometimes there are gaps and no amount of age or self-acknowledgement can prepare you for when your memory throws you a wildcard.

I know everything happens for a reason, karma always comes around and if you don't have the correct amount of goldfish you will probably end up dead, but sometimes emotion seems unnecessary.

Forget REM sleep and remember REM taught us something else: Everybody hurts. So please Freud, enough of the nightmares, bitterness never tasted sweet and don't dig up what has been long buried.

If we have to experience emotion why can't it be a smile encouraging, fairy dust twinkling, chocolate river drinking, pixie squeaking one?

Personally as long as he's 6ft plus, broad shouldered, big footed, swedish Mr. Darcy resembling, sex god, then that would be ok too.

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