Check Please?

This is turning into one of those long posts.
Sorry!!

Do you ever have dreams that are so basic and straightforward that Freud's cat could interpret them?
I had a dream last night that I ran into a boy I went to high school with - someone I also had a brief and ill-advised (but really fun) fling with in college.
OK. So cute boy from the past. (Check).
In the dream he had red hair. In real life he had dark hair but his sister had red hair. Also? Bartleby had red hair. In high school. Where we met. (Check).
In the dream I run into him in a restaurant and he is beautiful and we do the "Oh my god I haven't seen you in years!" things that you do... the hugging and the laughing and the hair-tossing. I saw him about 4 years ago - he came in to the station to make a pledge and it was more or less just like that. Slight reconnection: wow he looks great, wish I had worn something that made me look 100 pounds lighter and also younger. Holy crap! Now he's a yoga instructor? That's hot. (Check).
Within the scope of the dream we were suddenly in love and he was just as suddenly sick. (Check).
And he was getting visibly more sick through the dream. (Check).
In the dream I panicked and tried to figure out how to get out of the relationship (you know, the one that had suddenly sprung up between us over dinner).

And, check.

Wow. Wonder where that came from? Hmmmmmm. That one is mysterious.
It's like my subconscious isn't even trying anymore. Just phoning it in.
Whatever.

Andie and I had two really intense conversations last night - one of which was about me and my apparent denial and "brave face". I don't think my face has been all that brave. I think my face has looked a lot like this:

She asserts that even when I stand here and say, "Hi, this week is really hard and I am not doing very well," that I am still being brave about it and making "it" smaller than it really is.
I have been very close to not functional this week. Scary close. And nothing at all feels brave about admitting that. Nothing.
Brave and strong is not getting that close to "not functional" in the first place.
You will all be pleased to know that I am reconsidering my no therapist stance. It won't be the same guy I saw last time - he tried, but getting through my redirection (and other defenses) is more than I think he can do. Example: he would ask me something about Bartleby and I would say, "Well, you're married. How do you think your wife feels about that topic?" And sometimes he would answer. And then figure out that I had shifted the conversation yet again to something harmless.
It's like trying to kill the assassin that went through training with you.

The truth is that I am tired of being blindsided by the dead husband.
I am tired of the process and I really haven't even started. This is going to take years and that pisses me off. A lot.
Who is he to stick around in my psyche? Who is he to cause this kind of trauma? Who the fuck does he think he is?!?

You know, I asked him that question in a not at all quiet voice several times while he was alive. The answer comes now... he is the thing I can not pretend to get past. He is the vehicle of my reckoning. I can't go over it, can't go around it, gotta go through it.
Fucker.

Oh, and Michelle and Em? The guy from high school? Jake M. And yes, he is now in fact a yoga instructor. (I know, right?!?)