What say you, Freud?

So, those playing along at home remember when I was dumped nearly five months ago. My how time flies. I really don't think about it much. There are no more ill feelings. In fact, he and I exchanged pleasantries and mutual respect a few months back, forever ending any such ill feelings. With that said, we don't keep in touch. But were we to run into each other somewhere along the way, no one would die. I like to see that as a positive thing. I can look back and smile that it happened, not cry that it's over, and whatnot. Two points for healthy life progress!

But while I don't actively think about the relationship or it's ending, I certainly dream about it frequently. Like, I literally have dreams about it. If I were to count, I'd say I've been dumped while catching my Zs about 94 times. Or 11. Whatever, who's counting? (Me, I suppose). Just last night, in fact. Every time it's the same. He ends it, just like in real life. My reaction, however, varies. I fight it, I let it happen, I cry, I scream, I get over it. Depends on my mood, apparently. In real life, it all went down very anticlimactically. My dreams are always much more dramatic.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN, INTERNET?

The dreams don't upset me. They don't bother me. They just are. But that doesn't keep me from wondering what goes on in that mind of mine whilst I sleep.

I'd worry more, I guess, but then the next night I'll carry on with my recurring dream of living in a very large, rundown house full of windows that don't close, therefore allowing for critters and creatures of all kinds of get into the house and attack me and my cats.

So. Perhaps the breakup dream is the lesser of two evils?

Or I'm crazy.

Debatable.

Carry on.