| (no subject) |
[Nov. 26th, 2009|08:53 am] |
I was crouched down collecting little rose quartz stones from rock beds that were full of polished and unpolished gemstones, all mixed together but divided into sections by stained wooden boards. I was slowly working my way uphill. You saw what I was doing and went up ahead of me a few feet and I could see that you were gathering the rose quartz, too. This made me furious. You had collected a good handful and then found a great big chunk of it; at the same time, I found a great big chunk of it. I got angry and confronted you, asked you what you were doing. You hid your bag of stones behind your back clumsily, as if joking, half-wanting me to see that you were doing the same thing. I reached behind you and grabbed it, looked at you with rage- you were indignant. I took your stones and ran to the dock of the lake below, you followed. I told you that you can't collect beauty, that you were wasting your time trying to hold on to it. You tried to take the stones from me and I threw them into the water, we watched them sink. You said you'd throw mine in, then. I didn't care; I threw them in myself, a little sorry to see them go, but it was more important to prove my point: that they were only a passing curiosity for me, that I couldn't keep beauty, either, and knew it whereas you still clung to it and pined for it. You thought about jumping in after your stones. It's too late, I told you. We saw a pale female body drifting toward us from the depths. I said that it was my body, and that it was too late for you to save me, too. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 20th, 2009|09:09 am] |
I dreamt about the future: the world was in a state of major crisis (politically, ecologically, etc.) and I was involved with the New World Order's candidate evaluation committee: a vast group of leading psychologists, political scientists, ecologists, philosophers, spiritual advisers and scientists from every other relevant category (I was in the spiritual advisers camp) who had all been working together to create a testing system that assessed the fullest possible extent of the beliefs, motivations and positions of potential candidates to lead the New World Order. Anyone could apply for the position, first by submitting to a shorter, simpler series of testing and then being narrowed down as the testing became more advanced. The candidates remained anonymous throughout the process as their compatibility was compared with the needs and demands of people across the globe who had participated in the election process by completing the surveys that were circulated in order to asses the collective needs (political, spiritual, economical, environmental, etc.) of people everywhere. The final candidates (the most compatible) were finally submitted to in-depth interpersonal evaluations by the committee (kind of like what the astronauts went through in the movie Contact, but more involved), who submitted their evaluations to be sorted by the pre-established algorithm (no actual "voting" was exercised). Based on this criteria, a single candidate was selected and appointed automatically.
The elected leader, to the surprise of many, was a Rastafarian Sufi from Mali whose primary initiatives were environmental. I felt quite satisfied with the selection and a great feeling of peace came over me as I sat behind the camera crews and watched him delivering his inauguration speech to a global audience in his military green canvas suit, humble brown shoes, and dreadlocks tucked under his turban. I started to pray that he would be accepted by the masses, who had blindly elected him, and woke up repeating this prayer in a dreamy haze. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 4th, 2009|09:13 am] |
A dream about my probable future home- being driven there- waking up stretched across two bus seats and looking out the window upside-down, surprised that it's dark out, no idea what time it is, and the breathtaking thrill of seeing dark silhouettes of enormous trees wrapped in fog behind the rain-pelted glass. There's a feeling of something tremendous happening; it's all happening now, here I am, this is it -- waking from perpetual surrealism into this new dream, this hyperreality. A clean feeling- refreshed, alive and alert.
When I get out at the bus station it's still raining, still dark, and the air is unexpectedly crisp and invigorating, charged with an energy that's like nothing I've ever experienced. I suddenly realize that I'm not prepared for this environment- it's cold and startling, it's vast and unfamiliar- but I don't mind, I'm so happy to be here at last. I drag my suitcase into a small, well-lit waiting area; outside the night (or morning?) is dark (so dark), wet and wild. Some people glance at me curiously; yes, I'm new here. I don't know where I'm going. I have to find a place to sleep for the night, the week, the next couple of years? That's fine. I'll be fine. There's time. For now I'll just sit here and wait for the rain to clear. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 15th, 2009|09:23 am] |
Yesterday my ecology professor lectured on terrestrial biomes, and spent the last 20 minutes of class talking about temperate grasslands and prairie flowers.
Last night I dreamt that I was in one of the prairies from his slides, rolling over the flowery grass in a soft cotton dress, teeming with romantic longing. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Mar. 23rd, 2009|11:10 pm] |
there's a dream from the other night that makes me feel all warm to remember, so:
I'm walking north along a trail with a woody green hillside to my right and a wide deep valley to my left, and it's almost dusk. I realize that I should be heading back now, since I shouldn't be here in the dark. I make my way down a small slope to the left, where I find some train tracks that run parallel to the trail, separated from the valley by a border of tall leafy trees. The sun has set behind one of the hills and everything is drenched in soft blue twilight. I find a stone bench underneath one of the trees where I sit and wait for the train; there's a digital monitor embedded in the side of it, and it displays the time. It is also recording and processing my face, which is being relayed back to me through the monitor in swishy digitalized dream time, along with my name, which it has somehow matched with my face. I think: "good, they know I'm here. someone will send a train soon." I keep looking out towards the dark hills where the tracks disappear in shadows, but there's no sign. It's getting darker and I'm getting nervous. There's a few street lamps along the path, but they're far apart and only give off a faint green glow. Finally I hear something approaching, and I see lights up ahead. As it gets closer, I can identify it as an ambulance's siren. I'm disappointed that it's only an ambulance, but it reassures me to know that someone else is there. As the ambulance approaches me, it slows down and turns off the siren (the lights are still flashing) and then it passes me, but it stops a few yards away. I lean forward to look toward it, and I see an arm beckoning me through the window. I hurry over to it, and enter through the back, which has no doors. There's only one seat against the left wall behind the driver's seat and the rest is empty. The driver never looks at me, and takes off as soon as I'm seated. I thank him for picking me up, telling him that I was afraid no one was coming. He nods. We drive over the tracks and up into the southern hills, which are still golden in the last of the sunlight (there's also a full blue moon behind us, where it is already night). We drive over creeks and rickety boards and then a lake appears to the right; I have to lean forward to see out the passenger's window, which only seems to bother the driver momentarily. The lake is overflowing with runoff from the mountains and the excess water is spilling across the tracks and over the eastern slope into a fertile valley. We are driving up, up into the hills; it's a steep and bumpy ride and I'm elated. Every now and then I say something to the driver, but he is mostly unresponsive. Not in a cold way, just in an austere, professional way.
Once we're over the hills, we're heading back towards civilization. We've reached a road, and there's a bus stop ahead that the driver is pulling into. I ask him if he could take me further, through the tunnel since that bus doesn't go to my house and the train usually takes me all the way through the tunnel to the platform, where I transfer trains (I figure that this ambulance serves to pick up passengers on the missing train's route while the train is out of service). He hesitates, but agrees somewhat reluctantly. I thank him. We drive into the long dark tunnel which is lit up by emerald green lights, following the tracks. There's lots of swerving and bumping, and I feel like I'm on a Disneyland ride. I tell the driver this, and he smiles. Finally we get to the platform, and I'm sad to get out. I thank the driver again, sentimentally, and he turns to me and smiles, saying something pleasant that I can't remember. The dream pretty much ends there. |
|
|
| 3-world collision |
[Feb. 4th, 2009|09:54 am] |
Last night I dreamt that I was staying at Erika's house in Redondo, and when I woke up I walked into the upstairs living room and looked out the window to find that the whole neighborhood had been replaced by the ocean, which had risen right up to her window; it was so close that I could reach out and put my hand into the tide pools, which were impossibly magnified (I could observe every detail down to each grain of sand). She woke up and came into the living room, and I asked her if she wanted to watch Doctor Who with me. With some reluctance she agreed, and I started to set up my lap top so we could both watch but I was interrupted by the sound of pounding surf outside the window; the tide was coming in and the waves were breaking through the glass and emptying out on the carpet, leaving foamy kelp all over the place. At the same time, I was trying to get the video on my lap top to play properly, but it kept switching between scenes of David Tennant (as The Doctor) running through a familiar stage of seaside ruins that I recognized from former dreams (though I didn't make that connection at the time). We decided to go downstairs to watch it on the big screen TV, where it was dry. That worked, but as we watched it became hard to differentiate between "reality" and what was happening on screen, and soon we were inside the ruins from the television, running from the same rising water that had consumed her house. I was trying to solicit help from David Tennant/The Doctor, but he kept insisting that I stop addressing him since I wasn't part of his reality and I was causing him to be trapped in my dream (which was, in fact, a recurring dream that I've had many times, sans David Tennant). |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 4th, 2008|07:40 am] |
Last night I had this long dream wherein I was hearing voices, only they weren't voices exactly so much as echoey mumbling sounds, sort of like people speaking in tongues. During the first part of the dream I was in my grandparents' old house and I was freaking out thinking I was hearing ghosts, and no matter what I did I couldn't get them to stop. I tried pleading with them and I tried covering my ears but I couldn't quiet them, which made me start to wonder if they were in my head. After consulting friends and finding that no one else could hear them, I spent the latter part of the dream in a doctor's office trying to convince everyone that I wasn't crazy, and then trying to escape when they decided to force medications on me. When I woke up, I was alarmed for a moment to discover that the sounds were still there until I realized that it was only Phillihp's snoring! He was snoring so loud that I could hear him in my dreams!
He's asleep right now under the covers and his rear end is sticking out from under the blanket, and his little stub of a tail is wagging in his sleep. What a funny guy. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 13th, 2008|09:44 am] |
My dreams have been so incredibly vivid lately, and I've been consistently dreaming of places that I've visited in previous dreams that I've never encountered in waking life. I'm getting so familiar with these places (which are always near some body of water) that once I arrive at them I can instantly recall their parameters and know how to navigate around them; it's starting to feel like some kind of training exercise.
For instance, there's this one place I've dreamt of many times that consists of a small shore at the base of a steep wooded path at the tip of a promontory, and several times this shore has been used as a landing place after dreaming about falling into the ocean or getting swept out to sea somehow. Last night I arrived on this shore in a rescue boat full of strangers who were unfamiliar with the location, and amid their confusion and disorientation I was able to steady the boat and lead them to safety; I was also directing the movements of some other boats behind us who weren't able to maneuver on their own. Once everyone was ashore I guided them upward, assuring them that I knew exactly where to take the path to get to a bus stop. Most dreams of this location have taken place in daylight, but this time it was at night and the swelling moon was directly above us lighting our way. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 1st, 2008|10:00 am] |
More nightmares. I know that my subconscious is trying to tell me something (don't look at it that way / don't focus on this / don't eat that before sleeping...) but I don't think I'm interpreting it correctly.
I really hope that the first dream doesn't mean what it seems to mean; I hope that it was just an exaggeration of the situation spurred by my insecurities and paranoid delusions, but the fact that I asked for an answer to this particular question before sleeping makes me think that I can't ignore the possibility of it having been revealed so bluntly and unambiguously. Afterwards, in a half-woken state I tried to analyze the events before drifting off again, and it seemed so clear to me at that moment that this was how it is and there's no point in hoping otherwise.
The second dream involved a recurring place that doesn't exist in the waking world, but I dream about it every so often as if it's a familiar place from my childhood: it's a run-down, out-of-service Peter Pan water ride underneath the Redondo pier. In my dreams I remember it for what it was when I was a little girl, but I see it in it's current degradation- wood rotting, paint chipping, overrun by land expansion- and I'm always filled with a sad nostalgia at the sight of it. In last night's dream I only saw it for a moment as I was traveling in a low-flying plane over a post-apocalyptic California; it was part of a territory that was sequestered off due to rising sea level, and beyond it was neon-colored debris and a frighteningly convoluted, futuristic cityscape. I noticed the sunken wooden entryway with it's familiar carvings, and I turned to the man next to me in excitement and told him that I used to love that ride as a little girl. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Mar. 17th, 2008|06:07 pm] |
It's really hard to concentrate on reality and get through the day when fractured pieces of a dream are carried over in my consciousness and keep interrupting my thoughts. Whether I'm listening to a lecture or crossing a street or taking notes or buttering my toast, whenever the memory of a dream flashes through my mind I can't ignore it; I want to catch it before it disappears again.
All day I've been piecing together last night's images of a hotel lobby and a wedding reception... a floating wood bridge, painted blue, strung out over bluer water and connecting a steep island to a partially submerged, open-air mall... a long stairway cut into the island, leading to a fancy restaurant where a boy was impatiently waiting for me... a parking lot thick with palm trees and humid rain... yellowed skies and watching the raindrops fall into the swimming pools... a sense of waiting and longing...
I'm so relieved that there wasn't enough time for me to give my presentation in class today. I was feeling too intense to think clearly. I rushed home, practically running, anxious to climb back into bed and remember.
 |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|03:47 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | don't be afraid, you're already dead - akron/family | ] |
I had such a long, disturbing dream last night; it seemed to last for days, almost weeks. It was so sad that it left a scar that got carried over into the waking world and has been hurting all day. It started out as a gruesome nightmare that took place in my mother's old room in the Avenue D. house (as many nightmares do), where I had been kidnapped by this psychopathic killer who allowed me to live so long as I'd lure in new victims for her to beat and stab to death. She would force me and her younger brother, who was a few years older than me, to help her stab them repeatedly until they bled to death. Sometimes she'd leave her brother to watch me to make sure I didn't escape while she went to store the corpses someplace. When she'd leave, I'd try to talk to the brother who was very quiet and strange; it took a lot of effort to get him to respond. Eventually I got him to trust me after I lied for him when his sister came home and caught me in the backyard; I told her that I snuck past him when he had really let me go. When she'd leave, I'd ask him why his sister was crazy and he said that she had killed his parents in front of him when he was four years old and ever since she has been robbing and killing people for a living. He said he tried to run away a few times when he was younger but she'd find him and beat him until he was almost dead.
Later in the dream we became friends and decided to try to kill her to escape, but we had to wait until she came home drunk to do it because otherwise she would overpower us. In the meantime I had fallen deeply in love with him and didn't care what happened so long as we could be together. He was so beautiful and gentle despite his ghastly upbringing, and he resembled a saint or a greek statue. We planned on running away together to the opposite end of the country where we'd assume new identities and live quiet lives, since he was technically an accomplice to the murders.
One night he told me that she had gone out to drink, so we got ready to leave and prepared ourselves with knives to kill her so she wouldn't hunt us down. When she came back her brother stabbed her as she closed the door behind her, but she took the knife and sliced him a few times in the chest and neck before I stabbed her in the back and she stumbled out onto the front lawn. We locked the door behind her and I called the police, telling them to send an ambulance for her brother even though he begged me not to call them. I tended his wounds as best as I could and frantically begged him not to die, telling him that it would be ok; that I'd tell the police how he was innocent, that his sister had forced him into everything and that he tried to help me. I was so terrified of losing him but his wounds didn't seem so bad and soon the bleeding had slowed down. When the police came they took him to the hospital and wouldn't let me go with him even though I was pleading hysterically to ride with him in the ambulance.
They took me to the station for questioning and I told them everything that had happened, but since the sister had died from the stab wounds they wanted to convict her brother of the murders since they wanted to send someone to be executed. I got frantic and started to panic when suddenly someone came in with the news that he had just been beaten to death in the hospital by a lynch mob. The news devastated me and I fell into a suicidal depression when I learned that some of my friends had been in the mob, thinking that he had brainwashed me. The news reports said that I was suffering from stockholm syndrome which made me irate, and I demanded a press conference to explain what had really happened. I was sobbing all through the conference and it seemed like no one understood why I was so distraught. I told them that without him my life was meaningless and that I wished the mob had killed me along with him.
Later in the dream I was trying to assimilate back into normal life but I was so depressed that I was almost in shock and couldn't walk, so I had to be pushed around in a wheelchair. It ended with me confronting one of my friends that had been in the mob that killed him, and I was telling her how much I constantly missed him and wished I could be with him. I woke up crying because I missed him so much, and even when I realized that I was dreaming I kept crying.
 |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Feb. 18th, 2008|09:11 pm] |
I want this so bad right now!
I'm going to try to wait until the March 8th show before ordering it.
I'm even more excited about "DAWN," which will be a journal/book + CD from Phil's winter in Norway in 2002/2003. I have to put it out of my mind for now since it'll be a long wait. In my dream last night I was laying in a field in front of my old preschool (in real life there is no such field) and I was talking to this pretty girl who wouldn't tell me her name about Phil Elverum; she asked me what was going on in my life at the same time as Phil's "awakening," and I told her that I was falling in love for the first time with David that winter. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jan. 14th, 2008|08:34 am] |
Last night I dreamt that I was in the future in Los Angeles, and the whole world had been cast over in muted colors and hard angles like an old video game. Individual expression was forbidden, as was beauty and free thought. Everything was regulated and precise and I was trying in vain to find a way out. There were patrolmen everywhere, monitoring the flow of traffic. I was running along a ditch beside the highway at night when I came across a renegade biker couple who were camping out next to their motorcycle (which was illegal). They were the same couple who played Jan and Bob, the hippie couple in "Into the Wild." They offered to help me escape to my home town of Redondo Beach where there would be less patrolmen to worry about.
On the way we were spotted by a patrolman and soon we had split up and taken off in opposite directions... I had almost gotten away when a young patrolman caught me and was preparing to arrest me when I stole his vehicle and accidentally destroyed it while I tried to escape on it. Without his equipment he was lost, since everything was digital. He had to try and take me back to the processing station by foot, and on the way I engaged him in conversation and realized that he was not happy with the world he was working for but didn't know how to feel otherwise. I tried to convince him that the world had been corrupted and was not actually like this, and that what we were seeing was like a spell cast over the Earth under which everything beautiful was waiting to be released. Soon I recognized my surroundings and realized that I was on the Esplanade in Redondo, and I took him to the beach which just looked like a long bar of inanimate grayness. I tried to tell him that under that gray bar there was an ocean, but he was unfamiliar with the concept.
Then I saw the apartment complex with the lion's head water fountain that I used to love when I was a little girl, and I took him up to it. It had been covered over by a layer of digital sheets but I could still see the lion underneath. I started describing it to him as I remembered it, telling him about how my dad used to take me on walks by this fountain and I'd climb up the side and put my hands underneath the water spout and stare into the basin at all the goldfish swimming around the aquatic plants. As I was describing it the digitalization began to fade and the fountain came to life, surprising us both. I was overjoyed to realize that all I had to do was describe the reality that I remembered to break the digital spell, and I ran around with my companion describing trees and parks and buildings and streets and eventually the pier and the beach and the entire ocean. Soon the digital spell was collapsing and people were waking up to the real world again, running on the sand and rejoicing in their new found freedom.
Then that dream turned into one where I was at a funeral for Erika's cats, and after that I dreamt that I was escaping from the mafia after just killing their leader in self defense. Both of these dreams took place on the Redondo Esplanade as well. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 27th, 2007|05:24 pm] |
I had a dream that I was hiking through golden green incandescent woodlands with a group of strangers and we came upon this hidden cabin that looked like something out of a fairytale, and we were invited inside by an old woman who turned out to be Miranda July in disguise. When I realized it was her she noticed that I had recognized her and she took me aside and made me promise to be discreet, then after the others had left she took off her wig and shawl and glasses and made me boysenberry tea and asked me how I recognized her and I said that I'd recognize her in any disguise and she said that I seemed familiar. Then she asked me if I loved her and I told her I did and she asked if I would love her even if she stayed in that cabin forever and burned all her work and I told her that I would always love her no matter what and then she said I could stay with her if I would hike to town once a week for supplies.
This is the third dream I've had about her. It's getting weird. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 19th, 2007|09:21 am] |
Last night I dreamt that Timothy Frank, the man with the mental disability who comes in to my work to talk with me a few times each week, showed up all well-dressed and clean-shaven, well-spoken, alert and lucid and professed his sincere appreciation for my kindness to him and his longstanding affection towards me. He confessed that he had been faking his handicap and pretended to be needy because he was actually a depressed billionaire who hated himself and his inherited fortune and wanted people to treat him as poorly as he felt. He then admitted his great love for me for being the one person who made him feel human again and for befriending him despite his off-putting demeanor, and for encouraging his self confidence. Then he asked me to marry him and produced a beautiful ring from his pocket while he kneeled in front of me.
I was so shocked that I didn't know how to feel, so I got angry and told him that he had no right to put such a burden on me and that he knew very well that I already had a boyfriend who I loved and that I felt deceived by him and needed time to accept who he really was and that I didn't really know him at all.
Then he got very solemn and apologized briefly before walking away, and I knew I'd hurt him. After my coworkers came back from lunch I told them what happened and they were in disbelief, then the phone rang and a man asked to speak with me who said he was Tim's brother. He told me that Tim had just killed himself and left a note instructing his brother to leave everything he owned to me.
I woke up around 5:00am and couldn't get back to sleep. |
|
|
| more celebrity dreaming |
[Aug. 17th, 2007|10:17 am] |
Last night I dreamt that I was 14 again and back in my old house, and Dennis Hopper was a friend of the family and came to stay with us to avoid publicity. I was left alone with him while everyone went to a wedding for the day, and so I asked him if he wanted to be in one of my home movies. He was very into it and told me where to put the camera and where to move the big armchair, and then he sat down and told me to wrap myself in a quilt so that only my feet were exposed and then he had me sit on his lap while he recited a romantic monologue to me this way.
Later in the dream I was 19 again and was watching this video for the first time in years, and was excited to show it to everybody. To my dismay, everyone I showed it to thought it was really weird and disturbing and told me that it looked like he was molesting me. I tried to explain why it was artistic, but nobody was buying it.
The night before last I dreamt that I was in a dark and swampy haunted town and was on a mission to buy three pints of ice cream, and I finally found a strange little ice cream parlor that offered bizarre flavor choices. Nobody was at the counter and I was getting impatient as it seemed the whole town was abandoned, but after making some noise I was delighted to see a server emerge in the form of Miranda July. I asked her if I could sample a bunch of flavors but each of them tasted too bland or not at all like I was expecting, and she recommended a flavor called "Remember the 80s?" which tasted the way elementary school cafeterias smelled. I finally settled on "Avocado," "Churro," and "Cotton Candy" and then she charged me $9.99 per pint. I told her that I hadn't expected to pay $30 on ice cream and so she offered me a $10 discount if I could recite a line from her book, which I told her I was a fan of. This is what I said back to her:
"I knelt down and looked into his eyes. They were open, but closed like a store that is closed and looking ghostly with all the lights off."
She was very pleased that I chose that line and decided to only charge me $6 for all three pints.
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2007|01:00 pm] |
I'm getting better at remembering my dreams, all the parts of them
last night there were 2 that I remember
the first one was definitely influenced by the story I had read that night, Miranda July's "Something That Needs Nothing."
I was living on the streets in a big city and this girl took me in and let me stay with her, but only if I'd be her girlfriend and never leave her or go anywhere without her. We ended up having to move so we went on a road trip together and got lost in a tangle of freeways and overpasses and cris-crossed webs of concrete. We thought we'd starve if we never got out, but in the center of it all we found a lonely hot dog stand run by a blonde-haired boy who was desperate for friendship. He gave us free candied popcorn and tap water in exchange for staying with him and telling him about the lesbian things we did together.
then this dream turned into one where all the concrete freeways and overpasses had collapsed and fallen into the ocean and were overgrown with bright green vines and beautiful sea-blooming plants and flowers, and I was in an aluminum row boat with my family and some other people and we were navigating our way around the slabs of concrete and rusted iron, and the water was so blue and clean and so was the air and the beaches were just as gorgeous and families were picnicing on them and children were building forts out of driftwood and the concrete structures, and the world was changed and we all felt it and were so relieved. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 24th, 2007|08:38 am] |
I had a dream where I was on a plane to Louisiana and was smuggling Phil in my carry-on, and the plane was decorated like the Addams Family house. A lot of stuff happened between then and what came next, but eventually we were in the Spanish Moon (where Jason Molina composed the song of the same name) and my sister was there and we were climbing this decrepit staircase and there were all these ghostly voices singing from the ceiling but we weren't scared. When we got to the top we opened this door and went into the moonlit attic where a man with a beard was sitting in a rocking chair by a window, and when I went up to him I realized that it was Jona Bechtolt in a fake beard and I asked him why he left The Blow and he told me that it was Khaela's project and Khaela needed to reinvent herself again. Then he started hitting on my sister and I got jealous.
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 7th, 2007|02:11 pm] |
I dreamt that I was walking behind him. When I realized that he knew I was following him, I turned around and walked in the other direction.
Then I realized that he had turned and was following me, so I tried to lose him by turning corners.
When he had caught up to me and was about to cut me off and face me, I turned again too deliberately for him to pursue any further. When I slowed down and finally turned to face him he was gone.
I woke up crying. |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
a_renunciation's journal