Dream Journal

“It is a very painful thing, having to part company with what torments you. And how mute the world is!”

― Robert Walser

Lucid dreaming: dreams in which the dreamer is aware of dreaming. The Old English verb dremen meant “joy, mirth, noisy merriment” and  “play music”. But who cares, right?

Well, I kind of care. I’ve realized why my nightmares always seem so real and vivid. I’m not sure if it’s due to my PTSD but I seem to have stumbled into lucid dreaming, or more accurately, lucid nightmares (lucid nightmaring? No? Okay.)

Have any of you seen the movie IT as a child? I didn’t. I’ve seen snippets of it so I know it’s a horror movie about a clown. Seeing how I’m a horror bluff, it’s odd that I haven’t seen IT. I’ve never had a fear of clowns but a few nights ago I had a nightmare about a clown. Sort of. Do clowns wear tall top hats, like a circus ringmaster? Circuses and clowns, every kids’ favorite dream. I don’t remember much about the dream except this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something bad was about to happen and that I needed to wake up to avoid witnessing it. So I did. I forced my physical eyes open and for a few brief moments, I couldn’t discern the dream from reality and it appeared as if the clown was sitting in the chair across from my bed in my room, laughing. It had to be one of the single most scariest moments of my life. And it wasn’t even real.

I couldn’t go back to sleep after that. Cue the insomnia. Sometimes I feel like I’m loosing my mind and when your nightmares become present in your waking reality, who wouldn’t feel insane?

 

Happy 4th

“The blessings in which you this day rejoice are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity, and independence bequeathed by your fathers is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing to you has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn. ”

― Frederick Douglass

Not to rain on anyone’s celebration of the independence day of our country but happy 4th everyone. I couldn’t help but be reminded today that the 4th of July doesn’t hold the same meaning to everyone. Me and mine still celebrate it but sometimes it’s easy to forget where we’ve come from and how far we’ve come. I didn’t want to forget that today. Happy Independence day.

Full-time Job

Life is full of strange absurdities, which, strangely enough, do not even need to appear plausible, since they are true.”

― Luigi Pirandello

Wow. I didn’t realize that it’s been so long since my last post. Time flies when you’re having fun. Not that I’ve been having a lot of fun lately. I’ve mostly been working and stressing about school. I occassionally overthink in my free time or watch Netflix.

Not a whole lot has happened since my last post. I’m almost finish with one of the two classes that I’m taking this summer. It’s a four week long class whereas the second one is eight weeks. I’ve also been given my room assignment for on-campus housing next semester. I will be staying in an on-campus four bedroom apartment. I haven’t officially met my other roommates yet but I know their names and looked them up on social media so I have an idea of who I’m rooming with. Isn’t technology grand?

Everything seems to be. . . okay. I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to dop, for something else to go wrong. I’m like praying that I don’t get into another car accident and that my car insurance goes down but life’s a bitch so there’s no guarantee that either of those will happen exactly as I’d imagine they would. I’m just biding my time, doing what I have to do, trying to be a responsible and dependable adult. It’s hard. I didn’t realize how impulsive I am. I find myself having to curb my impulses constantly and remind myself of my short-term, reasonable, and responsible goals. I have to remind myself that the work that I’m putting in now will pay off in the end, that now is not a time for me to be reckless or impulsive. In short, being an adult is a full-time job and it sucks.

Tangled Web

“The black widow, who had dispatched a lover or two, was sought out for her wisdom. The young spider asked her, “Did you keep his harmful secret under the threat of danger, or did you spin a web so confusing that he didn’t know if you were friend or foe? Did you release him from the web and your presence or will you give another the venom in which to finish him?” The black widow was quiet and then said, “All of the above.”
―Donna Lynn Hope

I can’t sleep. Again. My mind is racing. As always.

I’ve been working non-stop lately. I both love and hate it.

Things. . . are becoming too. . . complicated for my liking. Long story short, I really almost broke the boundaries in place between friends. I had the almost perfect night. It was scary and exhilarating. I felt as if I had shed almost every confine that I could think of, except the basic ones. I felt as if I had become what is commonly known as the Id in Freudian psychoanalytic theory. I was all desires and wants, no thought of consequences. I was also drunk off my ass.

Now. . . . I can’t help but feel cut open and vulnerable. I feel as if I had bared my soul that night and left it out for all to see. I feel naked, seen. I always felt that I was always lurking in the shadows, in the periphery, wanting yet detesting the atttention of others. Well, I got it. But now I want the eyes to look away. But what’s been seen can’t be unseen.

I feel as if a certain friendship is at risk. How is that even in such a drunken state, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was in love with Batman? Nothing happened that night except I talked too much, opened up a little too much.

I don’t know what I want. I crave freedom and peace as if they were drugs. How I wish that I could buy them. I’d go broke for just a moment of both. I had that that night. Reality came crashing in the next day. Now, I can’t get that night out of my head. I was more me that I’ve ever been. Isn’t that what we all want, to discover and be ourselves? But at what price? With everything in life, there is a price.

I discovered something else about myself that I’m ashamed to admit. I feel like a black widow with a specific preference. I prefer men with issues, damage, baggage. Superman is a perfect example of my specific preference. I’ll even admit that what initially atttacted me to him was that he resembled Batman in some regard. I was looking for a substitute Batman. I received so much more than that in return.

Now, I guess I’m just looking for someone to keep my lonley thoughts at bay. That someone, however, could never be my bestfriend. Once that friendship is destroyed, there’s no going back from that. Somethings, some connections, you don’t destroy, risk, or put in jeopardy. I did that and I can’t forgive myself for it, even if said friend could. I don’t want him to be another fly in my web.

“What these men do not know about me, though… is a black widow dangling by herself on a single thread… is a deadly thing. A really dangerous thing.”
―Nathan Edmondson

Picturesque 

“if i had to choose between breathing or loving you, i would say ‘i love you’ with my last breath”
―Shannon Dermott

I’m always burning the midnight oil these days. It looks like my insomnia is sticking around for awhile.

As of two days ago, I’m officially 21. My birthday was not the train wreck that I had thought it would be. My birthday this year may have been the best one yet. I got to get drunk on the beach as I had planned and fell asleep and woke up next to the guy that I love. I’m still very much in love with Batman. We still have no label for our quasi pseudo-relationship. I have to admit that Batman had a valid point today when we discussed us. Why are we happier together when we’re not together? Why does calling what we have a relationship somehow makes things more stressful and serious?

I had fun on my birthday. I want to remember it forever. I wish I could take a mental snapshot that would never fade or age with time. I couldn’t have loved him more on that day. I was happy on my birthday and. . . .  I don’t think I can describe or Batman could understand how big a deal that is. He made that happen. He turned what used to be a day of disappointments and unhappiness into a day of celebration and joy. Batman may not slay all my demons but sometimes he does a damn good job of slaying the few that he can get his hands on.