Last night I had a very odd dream about two girls with whom I was IP a couple of years ago. In said dream, one of them was a kindergarten teacher in the very classroom where I had gone to kindergarten, and the other had an MLS and was working for Arbor House Publishing. Which, so far as I know, does not even exist. This dream is totally perplexing because nothing could be further from the truth… not that I’ve kept up with these particular girls that much, since I can get very triggered by people who “aren’t doing well,” and at last contact, they weren’t. (Yes, I am selfish, okay?) It was just weird. My therapist will be totally thrilled, I am sure. She adores analyzing dreams.
This morning I found myself wondering whether I’d rather mean very much to a few people, or very little to a lot of people. It really is a moot point, since I clearly fall into the latter category, but I do have a tendency to wonder about stupid things like that. Stupid especially because reminding myself of these things just depresses me.
Working with family is an ill-advised notion. I knew this, yet somehow thought that perhaps working with my sister would be different than working for my father. She is proving every bit as impossible, if not more so. If I am the one writing the text, shouldn’t I get to decide how to spell a name?? A transliterated name, no less, which can be spelled however one pleases. It’s like a default form of censorship — I have to avoid certain words, phrases, names, just to keep her out of my hair about that. Welcome to the Middle Ages all over again!