Allball called a few days ago. He’s having a hell of a time, working his ass off, and still waiting for his residency. I’m afraid for him since I don’t have much trust in the good will of people who have a history of racism. If the guy who’s doing selections will only take Arabs or Russians if he’s forced to, then if there’s a way he can not accept Allball, then he’ll find it.
I’m bracing myself for the possibilities. Even though Allball is very strong, it hurts to be held back when you know there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be given a fair opportunity. That kind of situation can do terrible things to a person’s worldview. I’m not sure if it will affect his confidence too much, since he knows he deserves better. As long as he recognizes that how he’s being treated is unfair, it’s proof that he still has the will of a survivor.
He’s still not certain whether or not he’ll cave in to family pressure to marry “properly”. So we know what that means. If the idea of marrying someone else doesn’t have the same appeal as slicing one’s wrists, then it’s not a mate kind of love. It’s a friendship with some sexual attraction. Maybe someday it could be more, but for now it’s nothing I should plan my future around.
Papa has been busy with work and related goings on. I miss him, but it’s kind of a good thing we haven’t been in physical contact lately. Now that the scare that he might be close to death is over, the context of our relationship has gone back to me being 20 years closer than him. He’s much slimmer and therefore has a higher chance of dying if he should actually have a heart attack, but he shouldn’t have that worry for many years yet.
I haven’t forgotten the lesson though, which is to go with the flow of life. On the one hand, I still don’t want to be one of the people who has sucked away his youth. On the other, what he wants to share with me, I can’t refuse on account of social acceptability. He’s not just legal. He’s also faced life and death situations that would have driven some people much older than him insane, or killed them. He’s also one of the few men here who can stand next to my dad…better yet, sit with him, have coffee, and talk for 10 hours. He also gets on well with Shai and Moon. He’s the best guy I’ve dated here since Shai.
So I’m taking it all at a natural pace. If it doesn’t last, then it won’t be because of me switching into sheeple mode just because it’s an unusual situation.
Goodytang has asked for more direct supervision. Although this is kind of topping from the bottom, it is justified. Ever since Feng Shui, I’ve been kind of avoiding everyone. Problem is that even though Goodytang didn’t have the best track record at the beginning, he has shown his dedication over time. He really doesn’t deserve to be punished for being initially hesitant because he was relocating…and he definitely doesn’t deserve to be punished for the insensitive behavior of another.
So after a bit of explanation and crying, I agreed to the new arrangement. One of the reasons he asked for it is because he wants to suffer with me…or rather, be an outlet for my suffering. It’s a very deeply submissive offering even though in overall character, I wouldn’t class him as submissive, just intense.
One thing that conversation told me though, is that I was in need of some closure. Though I wouldn’t normally seek it, there was a special situation. Just when I was just about over the whole Feng Shui thing, I had a rather disturbing dream.
I was in an operating room, and there was a television hanging from the middle of the ceiling. I was dressed in those horrible green scrubs, and there was a table there with something on it that was covered in a green sheet. On the screen of the television was Feng Shui’s face, desperately trying to communicate something, but the volume was too low. So I turned the volume up to the maximum, but I still couldn’t hear what he was saying.
There were wires and tubes that were connected to monitors, but some were connected to whatever was under the sheet on the table. So I pulled back the sheet, and there was just a massive pile of open needles and syringes filled with blood.
I looked around the operating room, and there was not a single scalpel to be found anywhere, but there were open needles with syringes filled with blood in every drawer, every cabinet, and every shelf. There was however, a small pile of vacuum vials. I “remembered” then that I was supposed to put the blood that was in the unsafe open syringes into vials where nobody could be exposed to whatever was contaminating the blood. I’m not sure what was contaminating the blood, but I had to be careful not to allow myself to be scratched by the needles. Then for some reason all of the syringes started to empty themselves. The smell of warm blood filled the air, and the floor was slippery. I slipped and fell, but before I hit the floor, I woke up.
It sounds really freaky and weird, but dreams full of blood usually indicate a person is having some issues around creation, life, their mother, or something of that nature. Wearing green and especially when it’s combined with a medical situation indicates healing. Monitoring equipment is normal in a medical situation, but in dream symbolism it also means revealing the true nature.
I held onto this dream for a couple of days before I finally had to try to contact him. I made sure to be as non-inviting as possible. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I sent him a few SMS’s to that effect, and told him that if he never wants to hear from me again, he just needs to say that. I just wanted to know if he’s alive and okay.
He answered that he’s okay, but has just been busy. He didn’t say that he never wants to hear from me again, but he doesn’t really have to. I think he knows me well enough to know that what drove me to it this time was a combination of need for closure and guilt. If whatever kind of psychological connection we managed, gave me a warning about something that might be wrong with him, or something he needs, then that should be expressed.
Maybe all he needed was an ego boost. For me, it’s no sacrifice to tell someone that someone on earth other than your mom cares if you’re alive or dead. I’m sure he has friends and probably a girlfriend to do this as well, but one more person on the list never hurts.
This is kind of new ground for me though…and more indication that RealNicole is back. I’m a sensitive person, and that’s why I was so tough. I don’t forget about people very easily, and when someone I reached out to rejects it, this hurts. For too long, I used to suck up my tears and say nothing, thinking that this made me stronger. All it did was add to a burden of built up anger and resentment that seems to have settled itself right around my waist.
So now, instead of holding things in, I’m expressing it exactly in the direction of the person it needs to go towards. No stuffing it down because that only redirects it to people who don’t deserve it.
