Wading and waiting

I forgot to take my meds for two days in a row again. I didn't crash/fade/etc... only some minor weird mental states clued me in that I hadn't taken my meds.

However, I had an overwhelmingly clear dream last night. I was in high school in gym class (seems like most depressing dreams start with that sentence.) No one liked me, I was an outcast, ignored for the most part, disapprovingly put down when noticed. Even the gym teacher wouldn't let me play with the other kids, said I wasn't any good and was pathetic at dodge ball or capture the flag, or something similarly mundane. The military guys were better and faster and more agile than I was and he was in contempt of us people who liked to play for fun, and not for keeps.

I knew people casually who weren't pathetic or unloved. Who were liked. They would talk with others about a music festival the school was entering in, about the massive parties that would happen before and after. As I was carrying this black nifty mountain bike through the school on my way out of that "institution" I was passively included in these conversations. I'd tell them I knew they didn't like me, but if they didn't mind, I'd like to go to some of these parties. Such awkward silence emanated from them, their brains scrambling for an excuse or platitude.

Even ostracized and shunned, I was very much at zen like peace. I knew their world, their values, their system wasn't for me. I was sad I wasn't really having fun, that there were people everywhere, but none that really understood me, I simply smiled and told them not to worry, I would be on a bike ride anyway.

I escaped the drudgery of school and my boyfriend - a skinny little boy I didn't really know or even really like, only with him so I wouldn't be alone - by going on bike rides around the town and outlying region. Horribly overweight and unpleasant adults were littered everywhere. Broken down trailers, broken down cars, train cars more rust than metal were stranded on the tracks. The town itself was broken down, struggling, overweight, unhappy, loud with grumblings.

I rode a nifty mountain bike everywhere on the railroad tracks, in the torrential downpours that were apocalyptic in nature, through lush green forests, saw mountains and sunrises that sole my breath away. Each day I went farther and farther away. I knew I couldn't leave yet, I was too young. I was just biding my time until I could. And then I'd never look back.

So I'd take off on my bike, surveying lands that I would eventually slide through, loving them in their majestic beauty, or cities (real cities!) with quirky personalities I'd wander anonymously through. But each night I'd come back to the broken down backwards little town, obsessed with its own importance and the minutia of the inhabitants limited lives. I'd get back in the car that never worked properly to get to school, I'd have my pretend boyfriend, I'd try to convince the gym teacher that having fun was more important than winning, and try to avoid most of my classmates who saw in me something they didn't understand.