a dream of another Matthew who wasn’t Matthew

I’m still sleeping in. I didn’t go to any church at all, though I wanted to try to go to the UU down the street. I just couldn’t get up. Whatever is giving me this horrible fatigue must be fixed. The new pants might have chemicals on them – they are starched and all stiff, so they need washed. My ‘healthy food’ that I bought recently might be toxic and goitrogenic – I have some fresh foods that might be killing my thyroid, although I don’t have kale. I have some sprouts which could be killing my thyroid or poisoning me in some other way, or the watercress could be doing it, or the fresh rosemary. Something ‘healthy’ that I’m eating is often the cause of severe fatigue – vegetables are poisonous, not defenseless, and they can totally destroy your energy levels. Kale is a super-poison. I would even argue that kale makes you fat, but I don’t have enough evidence for that.

I felt somebody interacting with me, with regard to Matthew, as I was lying in bed. They wondered if I was going to his church – obviously, not at all.

There was a time I forgot to mention, when Matthew was helping me move stuff. He went downstairs and sat outside in the little area with the stairs and the bikes, on the edge of the wall. When I got there and saw him I started automatically walking towards him with the intention of putting my arm around him, as he was at a perfect height sitting down, but he jumped up and moved away as soon as I began to approach. That was a real event.

In the dream, there was a larger Matthew, not the skinny Matthew, and we were in the woods, and he was wearing all these colorful fabrics and scarves draped all over him, and jewelry. I was on his lap, straddling him and just snuggling him that way, and we were sitting up, with our clothes on. I saw purple birds in his scarves, and flocks of purple birds flying in the skies, and I said that the purple birds were making me tired. I thought that might refer to the ‘purple martin’ thing I had, the nickname for Martin, when the Martin incident occurred many years ago. Martin was simply crazy – I have no explanation for him and no idea what type he was, but he was definitely not compatible with me. He also caused a horrible and long-lasting trauma, while I was being forced to try to contact him. I was under the influence of a lot more drug residues back then.

When I was lying in bed I had to say to myself over and over again that Matthew was gone and he would never speak to me again and I would never see him again. He’s going home and will be with Hannah again, and whatever is going on with her will be fixed, or even if it isn’t, he will find some other beautiful young girl and marry her, because no one ever rejects a skinny young male ENFP with a college degree and long hair.

I believe that milk withdrawal is contributing to my sadness, and no, I’m not joking, I’m really serious. Drinking milk is addictive. I can understand why people need to drink milk when they are in a subsistence farming situation. I would prefer to be in a subsistence hunting situation instead, where there would be meat, but no domesticated animals. That, I believe, is healthier. In the real world I will probably have domesticated animals on a farm in the future, and it will be a compromise. I can buy a couple goats and a few chickens and live off them for the rest of my life without ever having to buy food again.

However, right now, it’s possible for me to completely stop drinking milk, and eat meat, but I will have to find meat that contains vitamin D and other vitamins, instead of this useless zero-vitamin
factory-farm meat at the store. I need organ meats – brains, kidneys, not just livers – liver is the only thing you can find at the grocery store, and I tried the bone marrow once and it made me extremely sick, although I did fine when I ate the organic lamb’s bone marrow from Wegmans.

I haven’t eaten anything yet except some skittles. I got skittles because I need a substitute for coffee, and I allow myself to buy junk food and candy if it helps me avoid coffee. In the long run I don’t want fake candies either, or sugar. But I am not as anti-sugar as a lot of people are.

I know not to be fooled by the imaginary ghost attacks pretending to be Matthew – that nothing I do or say, in writing or in photos, will ever bring the real Matthew back to me ever again, and I will never see him again as long as I live. I swear, if this trauma keeps coming back every single day, I am going to have to do something to get rid of it, and I really suspect that ‘milk sadness’ is causing it. I haven’t had any milk yet this morning.

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