come in my cave

dreams fuck me up, what can i say.
if the dream hits during my nighttime sleep, it colours my entire day.
a daytime nap dream, while it only spins my head for the remainder of the day, is often much more, ah, sensuality-oriented. which fucks me up to the nth degree more than a regular, emotional dream.

and then what do i do?
it has led to drastic turns down routes of possible-no-return. let's be blunt, i've almost blown apart my relationship thanks to a dream.

so no, i'm not so drastic anymore. especially as i am about to be married. believe it or not, in this day and age, i am taking the vow of commitment seriously. but then, i'm not getting married in a church.
anyway.

maybe dreams aren't the only thing wrong tonight. let me tell it like it is:

• we were lightheartedly bitchy toward each other this morning, as we are on many a sunday (shared day off after 5 days of opposing work schedules), which bothers me slightly
• drew was in marty's arms, i was sitting next to them. drew took off marty's stone bracelet and pulled his arm back, as if to launch it at me
• i interrupted whatever it was marty was saying to stop this sequence of events from happening (my forehead still feeling raw from the cell-phone-incident on tuesday evening).
• marty didn't listen.
• i raised my voice (yes, yelling)
• drew threw the bracelet at my face; i deflected it with my hand
• then, marty hit me. hard enough to hurt. on my shoulder.
  

uh... ? you don't hit women. you don't hit me. you don't hit me in front of our son. while he is in your arms.

his defence? he 'didn't mean to'. he was 'trying to get my attention'.
yea buddy, the bracelet flying at my face had my attention.

i told him i couldn't believe he would show our son it's okay to hit me. i went upstairs. he came up and i told him to please leave, i didn't want to see him. please leave, i don't want to see you.

20 minutes plus some indignation (me) later... i accepted his apology on the grounds he make it up to me. i didn't specify how (would you agree that i don't have to?).

lunch
he leaves, off to do some last-minute shopping w/ steve and celia. me and drew nap. me and drew wake up and play. marty comes home, gift-laden (for other people). that's okay, i didn't specify material to make it up to me...

... but he 'ran out of time'. 'didn't get a chance to'. okay, so wine for so-and-so or gift for whoever was more important? sure. but you were at a friggen mall. i guess i understand they have nothing there that would suit your purpose... cough. god, i'm trying to avoid turning this into the years-long flower debacle.

All This To Say
nap-time dreams put the icing on the proverbial fucking cake of how i feel right now. yes/no, muse does/not help. regardless.
and off we's supposed to go, to steve/jamie's, all a-dressed up, for 'poker' (read: guitar hero). and drinking -- ahh, drinking -- how you help me.
marty's out right now, getting (hopefully non-chinese) food. and i light-heartedlier than i expected, threatened him outright if he didn't come back with something to 'make it up to me'.

if he screws this up, he'll pay.