Fall 2022

The 19th:

[Redacted]’s wedding today!! WTF. And I puked last night…lol.

My therapist wants me to journal more bc of dissociation. It’s not severe, but I’m having memory gaps…sometimes (more lately) having trouble distinguishing between my dreams and real life.

The 29th:

On the train to [redacted]. A woman to my right thought she lost all her bags, but we found them!!

I am thinking a lot about dissociation. [Redacted] and I discussed it and he sent me some reading I have yet to do. My dreams are like real memories. My memories are like foggy dreams. The vintage store I believed I went to? A figment of my subconch. The burdock I thought I dreamed about? Very much real.

The other day, walking home from the Library at Grand Army, I suddenly had a distinct and new feeling: that despite knowing exactly where I was, nothing at all felt familiar. I’ve walked that stretch of Eastern Parkway a thousand times. I am having dreams within dreams, dreams that I am dissociated to the point of amnesia (which has never really happened to me). It’s not comfortable.

The 11th:

I start therapy again on Monday. Doctor’s appt about new meds on Wednesday. I am still a foggy dissociative blob, still antisocial in a way I don’t welcome. I am dreaming a lot about my own death. I have developed some kind of preoccupation with the way I will die. Not like plane crash vs. heart attack so much as: what very thing will be the last lethal straw for my boy? When the plane crashes, will it be the impact that takes me out or the smokey flames in the cabin? Will the heart attack end me right away or will it be the subsequent damage days later? Will it hurt?

I dreamed I was stabbed on a water slide. It didn’t hurt but I felt the blood leaving my body and I wondered, how long?

My dreams are so vivid lately (more vivid than my reality?) that I can remember the way the dream salad looked on my dream plate at the dream resort and how the dream server poured the dressing over it ceremoniously. How could I not think it was real?