Dream Theatre

Ive been meaning to catalog all the dreams I have. It's best to get them jotted down as soon as you wake up.

But then.... I've been meaning to write, period.

It's just... I've gotten to the point that any and everything that comes out of my mind is sheer negativity. No one to talk to, no friends here, nothing new and exciting, day in and day out the same grey shit.

But then I realized that it's gotta come out somewhere. I could prolly update this thing 50 times a day and no one would notice it.

And let's be honest. I'm not doing anything else with my time anyway. Watching grass grow? Yeah, there's a fun ass hobby. Fighting dialup? Sooooo boring.....




Anyway, dreams. I'm going to jot them down and analyze what I feel are the subconscious components of said dream. Maybe it'll relieve some of the sheer emotional angst that I've got built up. Like chipping flakes out of a brick wall.



So today's dream.... was rather short and bland. I was in my old apartment in the city with my Ex. No, not the last ex, but the one before her. Angela. This in itself is impossible because those apartments are gone, and by the time I moved there, Angela had long since fucked around on me and ran off to New York.

Anyway, it seemed like she was just moving back in the apartment after a long absence. The place was full of old dog shit, which is a mental reference to the last apartment we shared, which felt more like a poorly run kennel than an apartment sometimes. You could barely walk downstairs. That's a story for another time...

Long story short, I tried to have sex with her. At this point in my life, I don't know if that's something I would actually do without a spacesuit on, but anywhos... things were going well (I have magic in these hands! MAGIC! *cough*), until she started crying and talking about how she was so wrong for what she did to me.

This, of course, is because of my inner need to hear various people from my past say one of two things: That they were wrong for what they did to me, or that they did those things simply because they wanted to do them. This need sounds silly as fuck when I write it out. Not normal at all. I just respect honesty, I guess. Honesty. Not blame shifting, Fisher-Price childrens' psychological tactics and mind games. It pisses me off when someone does something damaging to another person and when asked why, they feel the need to give you explanations with more layers than an uncooked onion. I think this harkens back to a time when we were all punished and too scared to give an honest answer for percieved wrongdoing. Example:

"HOLY SHIT, JAY! WHY DID YOU BURN ALL THE GRASS AROUND THE HOUSE!?!?!"

"uhh... because I wanted to?"

"DON'T GET SMART WITH ME YOU LIL SKINNY MOTHERFUCKER! *bashes him in the head with her walking cane*"

next time:

"HOLY SHIT, JAY! WHY DID YOU DYE THE NEIGHBOR'S DOG ORANGE?"

"*fake tears* I.. I dunnnoooooo wwwaaaaahhhhhh"

"THATS RIGHT NOW GO APOLOGIZE AND WASH IT OFF!"

The above things may or may not have happened when I was younger... okay, yeah. They happened. But think about it. Even if you react with an honest answer to so-called "authority questions" as adults, it only pisses people off more. Tell a cop that you were speeding because you were bored or you have to pee really bad or because you wanted to. He'll drag you out the car so fast.... Start babbling and apologizing? He'll prolly feel all manly and give you a warning.


Boy, did I just get off track.


The Dream. Angela started going into this story about the funny shape of another guy's dick. That guy happens to be another old friend of ours. This part, of course, is because in the back of my mind I prolly think she fucked him too. Along with the phone book-like list of men and women that I KNOW she fucked while we were together.

The dick talk was too much for me, and I forced myself to wake up.


Oh, the entire reason I had this dream was probably because I'm lonely as shit. Friend wise, relationship wise, companionship wise, sex wise, or otherwise.