i dreamt about an old love a while ago.
i was in this big ancient house with him; it was his house with his wife and kids. he had more than the two kids i knew of; he had two little ones even.
one was sick and cooped up in a room all by herself. the other little one was having a tantrum and wanted to be sick, too, because their mother was all wrapped up in her ministrations to the sick one.
all the time, he was just there, his usual charming self, trying to flirt with me, even as his children flitted in and out of that old house. at one time, his wife rushed out of a room, bringing with her a bedpan and a wash basin. i asked if there was anything i could do to help. she just smiled and brushed me away and told me to enjoy my visit.
i asked her why she had to do everything while he just sits there doing nothing and acting like the lord of the house. she just sighed and said that that is the way it has always been, and that's the way she supposes it will always be.
but he's acting spoiled and so are your children! i was dismayed at what she was doing to her self.
she just shrugged and went back to work.
at this point, i knew-- i have no place in their house, nor does he have any place in my life now.
and then i woke up.