Allowed myself to sleep in this morning, and just woke up from a weird dream. I was back at Gavan's house (only, in the dream, it wasn't the house on Frontenac Street, it was my childhood home on West Prospect), and while much of the detail isn't very clear, I remember that Gavan did something that made me really angry and hurt me a lot - I think it was that he got a new puppy after insisting that I get rid of Buster (only - and this is weird, too - it wasn't Buster; or at least Buster wasn't a beagle mix anymore... he was a German Shepherd from out of my childhood). And it was really weird in that, in the dream, he brought back "Buster" one evening, talking about how the dog was visiting, and when I woke up the next morning he showed me the new puppy, and I got really angry and called him some pretty unkind things. Then the dream turned even more weird - Gavan got very lawyerly and told me we were going to have to split up our things and Iwas going to have to get out. Which, lemme tell you, is something really odd to hear in the kitchen of your childhood home. And weirdest among the many weird things is that I remembered details about this childhood home - one that we moved from in 1978 - that I haven't remembered for years.
Gee, I wonder what I have on my mind, huh? It's funny, in the dressing room yesterday, David Ingram asked me exactly how long it had been since Gavan and I had split up, and when I told him it had happened on June 11th, he was really shocked, given the "ease," I guess, with which I had talked about it. I guess I've been putting on a happy face about the whole thing - but clearly it's something that I'm, I don't know... mourning? I'm anxious to have my stuff out of his house. To have settled the division of crap and gotten a little distance between us, so it doesn't all feel quite so raw. I've just spent so long in this weird sort of man-without-a-country feeling, dating back even to when I was still in Pittsburgh and wondering what was going on with Gavan and I. The fact that I've been paying ½ the mortgage on a house that isn't mine for four years has been pointed out to me ad nauseum by my friends - and to be truthful, even though I was quick to point out that I never wanted to be a home-owner, and was happy to think of that money as rent, sometimes now I wonder what the hell I was thinking. Who can know?
Gee, I wonder what I have on my mind, huh? It's funny, in the dressing room yesterday, David Ingram asked me exactly how long it had been since Gavan and I had split up, and when I told him it had happened on June 11th, he was really shocked, given the "ease," I guess, with which I had talked about it. I guess I've been putting on a happy face about the whole thing - but clearly it's something that I'm, I don't know... mourning? I'm anxious to have my stuff out of his house. To have settled the division of crap and gotten a little distance between us, so it doesn't all feel quite so raw. I've just spent so long in this weird sort of man-without-a-country feeling, dating back even to when I was still in Pittsburgh and wondering what was going on with Gavan and I. The fact that I've been paying ½ the mortgage on a house that isn't mine for four years has been pointed out to me ad nauseum by my friends - and to be truthful, even though I was quick to point out that I never wanted to be a home-owner, and was happy to think of that money as rent, sometimes now I wonder what the hell I was thinking. Who can know?
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