Somno-masochism: an insight

God my brain is annoying. There I am, pootling along, really quite enjoying my days, and then I wake up and find that, once again, I have managed single-handedly to create and perform my own mental health setback, by dreaming about something really quite unpleasant. Now, obviously, on a scale featuring rape and mass genocide, my dream wasn't too horrid, but it still sucked. In it, my friend Astrid was now going out with my ex-kind-of-person, who I shall label TB. In real life, Astrid is in a long-term relationship with someone who is about as opposite to TB as it's possible to be. And for the past few weeks, I have been feeling really quite fine about the loss of the latter. But dreaming about him going out with Astrid hits approximately the same score on the funometer as allowing a blindfolded toddler to give you a haircut the day before your birthday party. And, just to further complicate matters, the dream continued. In real life, TB didn't really want a girlfriend. But in the dream, he was much more loved up. I was trying (bravely, I think) to make a social plan with the happy couple. I think I thought that if I went out with them a deux, I would confront my ickyness about their relationship and 'move on'. Initially, Astrid seemed up for the idea, but then she phoned me back and said that TB had been trying to get hold of her all afternoon (unheard of when we were together) and that he was desperate to book some tickets for an event for just the two of them (rarer than steak tartare). Of course, I said it was fine for her to go with him, leaving me with nothing to do on a Saturday night (deep ingrained teenage fear, now mostly conquered except in ridiculous dreams), and I ended the call feeling unbelievably bereft. Then I woke up, and although it was a relief to find that TB wasn't actually going out with Astrid (to the best of my knowledge), and although it was good to discover that I don't have to witness any grand plans he may or may not be making for any new girl he is a-wooing, I still felt a bit sad. And it does make me think, when everything is tottering along in a fashion that is really quite breezy, what on earth is the purpose of my brain making me re-mourn the loss of someone who I was already forgetting about quite merrily? What could be the use of making me feel insecure, abandoned, and slightly betrayed? While I'm meant to be resting, for god's sake. If my own brain is determined to make me start the day feeling crap, what hope do I have? Although I must say, it's now 11:40 and I feel absolutely fine, so maybe I'm over-egging this cake. Back to the Guardian online.