It was only just a dream...

You showed up in my dream again last night.  I guess your appearance makes sense, given the last few days, but it still comes as a shock to me when it happens. 

In the dream, you were just the way I remember you, and yet somehow different - the way I'd expect you've changed over the years.  Everything felt familiar, comfortable, as it did so long ago.  You used your oh-so-witty dry humor to pick on me.  You used the fact that I found you irresistible to get away with it.  You helped me when I needed it, somehow always astounding me with the concern you had for me.  As always, just when I thought I knew what you were going to do or say, you surprised me.  It's one of the things I liked the most.  You were crazy, in all the best ways.  You weren't perfect; I had moments in which you infuriated me.  And yet that made you that mean so much more to me.

When my brothers came in the room, they ran over to say hi to you.  They adored you.  They wanted to tell you about the things they had done, and you would sit and listen, talk to them like peers, and play with them.  So instinctually, you connected with the two people who have always meant the most to me.  Watching you with them made me realize how lucky I was to have you all in my life.  I wanted to join, but I didn't want to interrupt.  It made me love you even more. 

For all the times that you drove me crazy, that I wanted to walk away, it was the moments like this that showed me you were worth it, come what may.  You and I just...worked.  I spent a significant portion of my dream just watching you and the boys, and I couldn't get the smile off of my face.  And that's what it came down to, for me.  No matter what was going on in our lives, you could make me smile.  When we were together, you were one of three people who could do that.  The other two were the little boys that you were always so good with.

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face, genuinely happy for the first time in a while.  And then I remembered that it was just a dream - that those days are gone and we won't have them again - and the smile faded.  I dragged myself out of bed and went on with my day, the dream forgotten amongst test preparation and normal morning chores.  It wasn't until the morning slowed down that I could sit and consider.  I know you'll never see this.  Our lives have changed in innumerable ways in the years that have passed.  But somehow, you still pop up in my mind sometimes.  You still make me smile.  And it makes me miss you all over again, even if only for a moment.

10:27am  26.10.11

"Don't waste your time applying to med school.  You won't get in anyway."
"Well, it's not like you'll actually graduate."
"No one will love you if you have scars on you."
"Depression isn't real.  It's all made up in your head, so just get over it."

This is how I grew up.  I can't say this is how I was raised, because I don't believe my father raised me.  He was around to point out my flaws, come up with chores that needed to be done, and make me feel useless.  Unfortunately, he was very good at it.

I've come a long way from where I was mentally when I lived at home.  Thank God, or I probably wouldn't be here today.  But his snide remarks still hurt.  I play them over and over in my mind, wanting so badly to prove him wrong, to prove to myself that I am more than he has ever given me credit for.  Yes, I deal with him better now, but he still affects me.  I have this unshakable feeling that I'm too stupid to be successful, too useless to be loved, to unworthy of anything good that may happen.

I deal - though not always well - but what kills me is seeing his effect on my brothers.  Those two beautiful, brilliant boys that I would do anything for.  That I gave up my childhood for.  That I care about more than I even knew was possible.  The fact that I have to deprogram them from shit my father has planted in their heads.  To convince them that they are good people who are talented and intelligent.  To remind them that life does get better with time and that I'm always there for them.  It seems like I get a call from at least one of them weekly, where they're so worked up all they can say is "I hate him" repeatedly.

I can't stand how he treated me, but I hate seeing the effect he has on them.  All they wanted was the support of their dad - to know he was proud - and they were forced to learn far too young that some people are never happy and to seek support elsewhere.  I thank God I can be there for them.  I only wish I had someone similar when i was young.  Maybe then I'd have a little bit more faith in myself.  Maybe then I'd feel a little less worthless.

3:08pm  8.10.11

And now, my entirely rambly, riddled with spoilers, thoughts on Drive.

As I start writing this, it is 1am, I’ve been up since 7am, I’m severely lacking in caffeine, and I just got back from the movies.  There is a very high probability that this entire post will be incoherent, fair warning.  I should probably just go to sleep, but there are a few thoughts I wanted to commit to something other than my memory before I do so.

Here’s what I knew walking into Drive.  Ryan Gosling, Carey Mulligan, Ron Perlman, Nicholas Winding Refn directed, little dialogue, heist driver.  That’s it.  That’s all I figured I needed, because that’s all the previews and interviews presented (yes, I even watched interviews with the cast and crew).  It sounded interesting, at least moderately entertaining, and hey – Ryan Gosling.  Having now seen the film, I wish I had known more about it before I sat down.