Dreams

I had a best friend when I was 15 who saved me. My mother has multiple personalities and is a diagnosed sociopath. It was difficult, to say the least, growing up with her as a single mother to myself and my sister. My best friend, Sophie, saved me from going crazy living with my mother and not knowing what was wrong with her. We were inseparable right through the birth of my first son and on till I was about 28. At that time, Sophie's own issues got the better of her and she became an alcoholic to drown out not being able to cope with the reality of her life. As a result, she also cut me out of her life; cold. One day she just stopped talking to me. Wouldn't answer my calls, my texts, nothing.
Years went by and I was driven crazy trying to understand why...what had I done wrong? We hadn't had a fight, there was no reason for her to not talk to me so abruptly. I had my daughter and moved my little family to a different state.
Then when I was 35, facebook to the rescue. I found Sophie and sent a friend request. We had one great phone call that was full of reminiscences and happiness. She apologised profusely for ignoring me all these years, blaming her desire to drink and not be around anyone that wouldn't drink with her (ie: me). I took her apology, I forgave her for hurting me. We stayed friends on facebook but didn't talk (you know how it is). I thought that, with an explanation, I no longer blamed myself for the ending of our friendship. And by that time, I'd convinced myself I didn't need friends.
And so things were quiet, pleasant, easy.
Until political correctness and democrats inability to tolerate a different opinion to their own got in the way. I posted a meme pointing out the difference between what the NZ Prime Minister can get away with (wearing a hijab to the funeral services of the christchurch massacre) and what Trump can't do (anything).
This stupid little meme triggered Sophie. She started plastering comments all over it, declaring that I was insensitive and cruel for not considering her feelings.
Huh????
She had never been in a massacre and she wasn't muslim...how could the meme hurt her feelings? I was absolutely stumped and stuck to explaining that my meme had nothing to do with the actual massacre; it was a political statement about two leaders.
After two weeks of trading comments where she lectured me on what a bad person I was, I finally got it out of her the reason she was so triggered. Her older brother had died a few years before; he was on a night walk and got hit by a truck while crossing the road. It was a true tragedy; he was a great guy whom I liked very much. To Sophie, my meme was mocking tragic death, mocking those who had lost loved ones suddenly.
This, my friends, was the end of our friendship...again. Instead of putting it behind us as a "agree to disagree" thing, Sophie said I was the contention in her life and defriended me with a goodbye.
Now, after all that explanation, we come to the crux of this post...my dreams. Since Sophie said goodbye to me over something so damn, fucking stupid, I've been dreaming,  over and over about those that have left me or broken my heart. Every night my dreams are of heartbreak, tears, bewilderment, being left alone without explanation...and, by god, I want it to stop. I don't believe in dream interpreting or any of that malarky; I know why I'm dreaming these things - i'm grieving the loss of someone who was so important to me, the loss a second time. But it's really starting to hurt me. I dream of my mother, my sister, my cousin, my best friend from primary school, Sophie, my son's father, my aunties; all these people who have had a profound impact on my emotions, people who have let me down or abandoned me.
So now i'm left trying to wake up happy and instead constantly waking up in tears with a heavy heart as my brain tries to come to terms with so much loss in my sleep. I guess that wouldn't be bad if I didn't also think about it all (because of the dreams) while awake. So, in essence, day and night i'm going over the same shit that I thought i'd come to terms with years ago.
Guess I haven't.
No wonder I can't start the second book.