Dreamed last night J and I were working on a play - Patience by Gilbert and Sullivan, the one I was in in Seattle. I was needed to help fill in for a chorus member who'd taken sick. It all ended really late, and we walked off to play some cards ...

and wound up at the Royal George, where after a while Eva and Richard walked in. Richard pretended not to see me, but Eva sat down to play cards with us (something like "Cards Against Humanity"). I asked Eva if she knew why Richard wasn't speaking to me, and she said she had no idea.

After a while Richard came and stood behind me and gave me a pat on my shoulder, as if to say, "I'm not mad at you any more," and I felt a huge surge of relief, even though I still wanted to know why he'd ever been mad at the first place ...

and I woke up. Everything was the same. I still have no idea why he's enraged at me. I felt profoundly sad but was able to fall back asleep.

It's so odd, this whole medical thing that's happening to me was caused by a PTSD episode reliving all of the social exclusion that took place in Seattle, and yet it's led to the biggest episode of social exclusion I've experienced since. No wonder I can't get better. And booklectic was right to be worried about how I felt in a situation where I felt excluded and unsupported. At least I've had support in dealing with this but the amount of exclusion that's been going on has been truly epic - and after three entire months shows no signs of letting up. When, of course, I'm actually well enough to lift my head and notice there's a world out there besides eat, work, sleep, survive.

Woke up covered in spots, really quite intense coverage today. Need to go back to specialist but in some ways I guess I just have to keep living with this because it's not going away. At least I can get some exercise now and then.