"It was just a dream. Let it go," I keep telling myself. And then I start rewinding it in my mind once again, dissecting every word and action in this drama that occurred only in my head. I start feeling anxious, angry, tearful. "It was just a dream. Let it go," But something in me keeps pulling towards this little piece of mental masochism. A friend once speculated that most folk seem to crave a frequent hit of melancholy and will go out of their way to find it. (If that sounds implausible, then maybe you are one of the hundred people in the world that didn't flock to see the movies Beaches, Titanic, or The Notebook.)
Maybe that is why I keep returning to the dream. Whatever the reason though, I don't have enough moments in my day to choose to waste any on feeling rotten about something that did not even happen. But my attempt to coach myself out of it is failing so I pull another tool out of my GetHappy toolbox and go for distraction. Yes, at 6:30 in the morning I resort to the remote control. Five minutes of a carefully chosen program and the dream's grip on me has diminished. Chalk one victory up to distraction!
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