Da na na na ta…

I broke my toe nail last night in a dream. In my dream life those tiny things are just as overwhelming as they are in the waking.

I was back in Tucson, as who I am now. There were two people fighting for attention. Someone new, and the ex. I was happy to see him. He looked how he did when were were together and he was happy. I weighed my options and went back with him.

We lived in a house that for Tucson would be small, but which would make sense in Brooklyn. I was throwing a dinner. He set the table. He took care of the guests. And I was happy as a housewife because my needs were met without me even having to ask.

I’ve been having these conversations with my near and dear. They want to be in love. When I push and ask why, it isn’t because I don’t know the answer. I do. I just want to hear it from them. What does everyone say? A lot. But it basically boils down to feeling actualized. Activated. Some…the less evolved…are asking to be gifted with love because of what it brings. Others are asking to be blessed with love because it would allow them to be their greatest selves. What they all have in common is a need to feel seen, understood, and appreciated. They want mirrors. And that, they believe, comes from the romantic partner type of love. 

What was the love I felt in this dream? It felt like trust. Like we’re in this together. You succeed, I succeed. We both go down with the ship so let’s figure out a solution.

But in the real world, how do you find that connection that amongst the walking wounded? Single people play these games of chicken that work against them in the long run. They know what they don’t want. But they work againsh their own interests.

As for me? Well, it’s complicated. I see everyone. It is a gift and a curse. On a good day I can see most people’s greatest potential and greatest weakness within five minutes of knowing them. Those people are boring. My curiosity leans towards complexity. Give me layers and I will delve. Give me security and I will burrow. Give me safety and I will blossom.

What do I give in return? I can make someone I love feel like time has disappeared and we are floating in some metaphorical amniotic sac. That will last as long as they do their own heavy lifting on their issues. My drawback? When I’m not ok, and I’m sapped of my energy and goodwill, and someone keeps asking…I lose my ability to be compassionate. Could anyone out there ever understand that and bolster it, knowing that the stings and barbs aren’t me. They are a sign that something is wrong and their job is to see that and put me in a safe place until I come back to myself.

“Take a load off, Fanny. Take a load for free. Take a load off, Fanny. And put the load right on me.”

On balance, is what I offer worth the price of devotion and care? In a market economy, the price is determined by demand. I am a niche product. Only the rare collectors are going to understand my value. They’ve read my deep cuts.

How do you market yourself to a rare collector? They have to feel like they discovered you.

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