Thursday, September 22, 2011

Of Shoes and Ships and Ceiling Wax...

Of cabbages and kings...

Yes I know, Alice.  Thank you :)

My genetic seasonal agoraphobia has kicked in a little early this year.  Normally I don't see it until it starts getting dark around 6 or so.  I got it from my mother, who finds it difficult to leave the house in the evenings when it's dark and cold.  Normally this isn't an issue, since I rarely leave the house in the evenings anyway.  However, since I've signed myself up for a night class this semester, it's become something of an issue.

I've been having some strange dreams recently.  I think they're mostly strange because they're super-long, epic-story-types and that I remember them.

Last night there was magic and dragon-men and vampires and sex and other things that don't really make sense when itemized like this, but I remember, very vividly, being in a bathroom at one point (one of those gas station type deals with just the toilet and the sink), and that I needed to go out into the hall to face the dragon that was out there but I was fucking TERRIFIED of doing so, so I pressed myself up against the door and pretended to not exist, which didn't fool the dragon.  He tapped on the door with his tail (don't ask me how I know, I just do) and I was like "Someone's in here!"  Like he was just asking to use the toilet.  At some point I left the bathroom and he was gorgeous and he wasn't bad or mean or evil or anything I'd been led to believe up until that point about dragon men.  And then of course, he held me close and was very safe and comforting and I'm pretty sure it was at about this point in the dream that I realized that in real life I was sleeping.  I continued dreaming of course, but it was a weird state of "oh yeah, I'm not actually awake.  That's fine then."

The night before was of royalty and castles and locking people into rooms and love and forbidden love, and churches and kings and rollercoasters and a confessional and...yeah.  Idk, apparently I am very, very fantastical when I dream.  Also, romance novel-y.

It's hard for me to explain my dreams when I have them and I remember them.  Because I can only visually remember them and I can't come up with the words to describe what's happening in my dreams.  I feel like I'm describing a Picasso to a blind man.  He's never going to understand because I'm not sure it really even makes sense to me.  To him, I'm crazy and to me, he's just not in my head so he won't ever understand.

Have you ever described a dream to someone and halfway through your description, you realize you're retarded?

Yeah, I feel like that about now.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

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