Dreams

Yesterday, on our way out to meet some friends for dinner, I told Pat about an article I read in the local paper about a woman who is suing the Catholic School Board because of the bullying that was allowed to occur to her daughter.  Somehow, that theme winded up haunting me in my dreams last night.

My first dream was definitely a nightmare. All I remember is that there were monsters and I woke up afraid (I blame reading a specific chapter in the new Diana Gabaldon book). I snuggled up close to Pat and eventually fell back asleep. The second dream was certainly more telling.

I lived in this large building, sort of like a school, but instead of classrooms, it held apartments. There were still these strange shared spaces, like the cafeteria/kitchen, a commons room (a flash back to University I guess), and the bathrooms.

There was this guy. I remember him looking something like a mix of Finn from Glee and Johnathan Rhys Meyers from The Tudors.

He had this little posse of jerks that followed him around. Somehow, I became the target of this group. I remember being sexually harassed, verbally abused, as well as physically abused. I felt helpless, like nothing I could say or do could make it stop. As it turns out, my mother owned this building, and was therefor his landlord. I begged her to make him stop, to threaten to kick him out, but she refused. I was so frustrated and hurt. I decided to take things into my own hands and vowed to make him wish that he had never picked on me. I woke up with an immense feeling of stress in my chest.

Didn’t help that I had an interview today and really could have used a restful sleep.

The last six months of unemployment have done wonders for squashing my self-confidence. I used to think it would take maybe a month for me to find a much better job than the last place. Ha! They thought that they could bully me, and fire me? Ridiculous! I would just find something much better. Well, so far, I’m about 2 months away from running out of EI and with remarkably few prospects.

I’m one of those people that has to have a job. In University, there was a time that I had 3 part time jobs on top of an overloaded fulltime 3rd year schedule. As you can imagine, I was a mess for the first few months of unemployment. Now, things are different. As a strange twist of fate, this finally suits me. Mum is really sick. Like, really really sick. I’m depressed, working through some post-traumatic stress and I’m planning a wedding. The time couldn’t be better for me to be unemployed. Of course, the milisecond that this thought appeared in my mind, the Universe started throwing job interviews at me. Seriously. Within a day of thinking “Man, this is actually working for me for a change”, I had 5 employers contact me for interviews. You think I’d be relieved, but instead, I feel guilty for not wanting it and stressed for having to deal with it.

I tried to explain to Mum why I don’t want to be working, but she doesn’t get it. She is one of those hard working prairie girls of eastern European descent. She was angry with me for even thinking about turning down opportunities, or taking a break from the job hunt. Maybe it’s a sign of weakness to her, a sign that Things Are Serious and Bad. For me, it’s a sign of strength. I want to work on me, I want to be there for her, and I’m making a decision to better myself and my situation. Plus, I really need the time to figure out What I Want to Do, because I have no freaking idea.

I just wish Mum would stand behind me and support me while I figure this out.

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