SECOND - A prophetic dream?
Mariana's diary
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Today, nothing worked for me. I overslept this morning, arriving at work an hour late, which is why I consequently had to stay an hour longer (due to flexible working hours), which in turn resulted in me having to run to the dentist appointment immediately after work without even having time to eat. The planned filling of one tooth with a small cavity turned into discovering deep cavity that spread to adjacent three teeth. This extended the dentist's work to more than two hours. Of course, anesthesia stopped working after only half an hour and I was too ashamed to admit it, so I had to endure an hour and half of very painful drilling of four teeth!
When I returned home, I complained to Marko, hoping to get some understanding and comfort for the pain I suffered. I didn't even begin to describe the agony I suffered, when he lashed out on me: "Four teeth! Are you insane, do you know how much that costs? How are we going to pay the rent for this month now?" He continued to grumble that I was late for lunch again and that I hadn't even bought everything we needed because I spent all my money on teeth. I tried to joke that health is the most important thing, but this resulted in a fierce argument about how irresponsible and immature I am and how I must finally grow up. How is it that other people always know those unwritten rules of how to be an adult and responsible, and I always do everything wrong? Like a part of my brain just hasn't grown properly, and everyone knows crucial things about being an adult, but I don't. Marko says that I am just spoiled, I personally think that I may have a mental problem, but I can't really tell that to anyone.
I dreamed of bleeding again. At first, I seemingly woke up during the night, as usual, to realize that my hands were covered with blood. Instead of looking where all that blood came from, I started, as every single time before, smearing it on the wall next to the bed. I don't know why I always do that. The pillow was all smeared with blood, the sheets and blankets stained. I felt a sharp pain in my ribs and when I wanted to check if there was any wound, I noticed that the pattern of blood on the wall took on an even clearer shape. Something is constantly changing in that part of the dream. It's as if I'm drawing symbols on the wall with blood, and there's almost visible message. Just "almost". The word "go" is clearly visible in one place. I still don't understand why this dream keeps coming back. Maybe I'm summoning it myself. Something like when you have an ugly dream that goes through some tragic trajectory of events, and during half-sleep, you consciously change that ugly dream to go in the direction you want them to go. Happier direction. Does this prove that we still create dreams ourselves and that it is not a mystery of going to some other universe? Or, that sometimes it is, and sometimes it's not? Or is it really another universe where we have the power to change reality if we want to? And maybe development of events and our destinies can be influenced in this universe as well, the only problem is that most of us don't know how? An interesting theory, but dangerous. If everyone could control reality, chaos would ensue. That is why we all have limited possible action inside our own frames. Sometimes it seems to me that "deja vu" feeling is just a consequence of something I once dreamed of, and not, as scientists claim, a mistake in the brain. There may be no innate mistakes, but it all has a purpose. The fact that we cannot find that purpose doesn't mean that we have the right to declare a natural gift a mistake and useless.
Marko constantly says that I dream too much and fantasize too much and that I should be more grounded, but I don't see the point of that. It's not that I'm so high in the clouds that I can't see that I need to pay rent, bills and food, and that I need to get up at six in the morning and go to work to make a living. So, I'm not totally unreasonable, I just want to see our reality painted a little differently. There is nothing wrong with that, right? Sometimes I imagine that I am an alien and that I have infiltrated among the earthlings. Then it's as if I'm rediscovering everything and admiring the world around me as if I'm seeing it for the first time. I'm able to really feel fascinated by the world around me, the city I've been living in for twenty-nine years, and the people who pass by me, so many different faces, personalities... It feels like I've never seen the same person twice.
Often, I feel sorry for Marko. He's like horses that have eye shields on their heads so they can't look to the sides, just straight ahead. Just where they need to go. It is as if life is a job that needs to be done properly, and then, with a clear conscience, when the time comes, lie down and die, knowing that we have done nothing beyond determined rules and borders. Which isn't so bad. But I see life as an indescribable mess of opportunities and challenges. And I respect the rules as much as I must, provided I know them. That brings me a lot of problems, because people don't understand me, and if you behave unreasonably or weirdly without personal charisma and charm, which I don't have, it can be interpreted very negatively. For example, it can be interpreted as irresponsibility, tactlessness, selfishness or conceit. Or all that together.
Related to that subject...
A few weeks ago, Marko took me to a business party at the company where he worked. According to unwritten rules, I should have really tried to leave a good impression, because these people are necessary for Marko to progress in business, and some general rules of decency require that his companion, that means me, appear elegant and neat (to show respect to other guests) and to "circulate", that is, to hang out with people and try to have pleasant usual small talk. All in all, I was supposed to be very pleasant and approachable.
However, the same day while I was returning from work, my car ran out of gas in the middle of a traffic intersection, so I had to push the damn thing to the nearest parking lot, twenty meters away. The other drivers, instead of helping me, were nervously honking, as if that would significantly speed me up and get me out of their way. In the end, the car got stuck on the sidewalk, and after many attempts to push it up finally one large silent man helped me push it over those few fatal centimeters of the roadside and left without a word, although I kindly thanked him. As a result, I came to the party late and nervous, and my hairstyle with messy black curls did not show any signs that my hair would behave better that day than usual.
When I arrived there was a classic festive-business atmosphere, in which I become socially awkward, and because of that stay away from. Many people in formal suits and ladies in strict business attire, directors and business associates were all in a large, well-lit restaurant hall, arranged in groups, talking to each other while the orchestra played something old and classic in the background. As always in such situations, I tried to take shelter in a corner where no one would notice me and spend all the time there with a plate full of fancy food. Although I wore a beautiful dress with a gorgeous neckline, which emphasized my narrow waist and my curvy figure, Marko greeted me coldly with the remark that I could've at least brushed my hair. I started to explain that it is not easy to comb or tame my curls but explaining just made him even angrier. So, I fell silent. I thought he would stay with me, but, apparently, the other guests were more important. After all, I'm always there, we live together, so why bother with me at all? He went to flatter businesspeople, who might benefit him in a lifetime (or maybe they won't) but he didn't miss the opportunity to grunt in my ear that I could "at least try to circulate" with people and appear normal and sociable, whatever that means to him. I didn't know how to behave normally and socially, so I spent the evening sitting alone hoping that something would tell me what to do.
After he left me alone, I looked around, but it was clear to me that I was not interested in these people and that I would probably never see them again, so I didn't even bother to make any contact. Maybe it's not fair, because I was supposed to help Marko fit in a company and leave a nice impression on his colleagues and bosses, but not only was I afraid that I could make things worse, but I'm also too lazy to make contacts that don't interest me at all, even less to have useless conversations intended solely to kill time and get promotions. I am what I am, and he knows it, yet he still hopes to make me a nice social, charming and open being, who always looks neat and reasonable, there is more chance to train the ladybug to bring him slippers in the morning.
I was sitting in the most hidden corner, eating specialties that are otherwise too expensive to me, deaf and blind to the whole world. I ended up in the kitchen, where I hung out with the staff, and where they taught me how to make canapes. One of the musicians, the keyboardist everyone called Mickey, but not by name but by the last name Mihajlovic, was getting interested in me, and we spent a lot of time talking on the terrace in front of the kitchen. In the end, he convinced me to visit the concert of his band "Omen", in some place forgotten by God, as I told him that I will be passing close by, because I was going to visit my relatives. He was very pleasant, and he didn't try to hide that he liked me, so we kissed and made out a little. As the time of the concert is approaching, I really want to see him again. Does this make me a terrible person? I don't even understand myself. Why do I do things like this?
It's late at night, Marko is snoring, and he is taking the whole bed. So, I decided to sleep on a couch, not to wake him up. Maybe this change will prevent that dream from reappearing. And maybe I shouldn't think about it, because I'll call the dream so sure. And maybe, if the dream does appear, I should really concentrate on understanding what it wants to tell me and what are those symbols and words on the wall next to me.