What dreams may come

I've recently got up feeling washed out, after a thoroughly disturbed night, both in terms of waking several times, and in the dreams that punctuated what sleep I did manage. Dreams, my dreams, anyway, are more often than not a random jumble of images without much connection to the conscious world, but there are occasions when they reflect 'real life' concerns. And two separate dreams overnight did just that. The first involved my cousin's family finding me, initially trying to blackmail me for a ridiculous sum, then, when I refused to have anything to do with handing over money, trying to kill me. My 'dream avatar' ended up hiding out in a papal residence - of all the unlikely places to offer any sort of sanctuary to a gay atheist! - but still having to kill to avoid being killed, to the point that I was begging to be allowed to die, but couldn't make myself. The final character before I woke from that dream, as I went to hide in a bathroom, was a young boy with a mischievous grin (not based on anyone I actually know, consciously, at least), which seemed to form a kind of 'bridge' to the next dream, which involved my attempts, frustrated at every turn, to interact (not in a sexual way, just as a friend) with a different boy, again without a waking life analogue, although he was rather reminiscent of Jake, the young swimmer I saw a few times from the window of my room last Spring. Undoubtedly a case of some of my most persistent preoccupations, my continuing paranoia about what my cousin may or may not decide to do, even months after the meltdown, and my much cherished, but seemingly unrequitable, desire to find a boy to even be friends with, still less anything more, expressing themselves through my subconscious. Not that dreams in themselves will change anything, either for the better or the worse, but certainly an indication of where my head is at.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B