it's when your ex-boyfriends parents find your livejournal that you begin to reconsider this whole internet thing. i'm too attracted to people reading these things to completely give it up, i guess. xanga was one thing, livejournal was another. this time i won't use full names, i promise.
when i'm going through something difficult my dreams tend to get more intense. this time around is no exception. in fact, my dreams have gotten worse and more realistic than ever. dream one was about control, or the way i feel i have a lack of it, maybe. i had just given birth to two babies. one of them was an actual baby, all small and pale and wrapped in a bright pink blanket. someone in the dream, it was either clay or laura, named it "precious". the second baby wasn't a baby, but rather a two year old boy that i couldn't get to settle down. the next thing i knew i lost the infant. it didn't die or anything, i literally just couldn't find it. i ran around the hospital looking for it, not telling people what i was looking for and denying that i had lost it for fear of them thinking i was/calling me a bad mother. i remember thinking that i had to leave, that there was somewhere i had to be, and that the fact that i had to spend all this time finding the baby was going to make me late. the hospital itself went back and forth; about half the time it was big and sanitary and white and made of tiles and fluorecent lights; the other half it wasn't a hospital at all, it was that stretch of residential area we walked through from alec's house to burger king during parties. but i still thought it was a hospital.
locations in dreams are weird things, right?
that's all i remember of the actual dream. the morning after i was thinking about my period and realized that there was a chance that i was late, seeing as i couldn't remember when i had gotten it the month before. what if my dream was a premonition? highly unlikely, seeing as i'm not having sex. with anyone. anywhere. anytime.
i had dream two last night. i was getting off the 215 bus across the street from my house when i saw this boy i went to school with...in real life we went through brief stages of being kind of goodish friends from grade 7-10. he smoked a lot of weed and apparently had a crush on me freshman year but then found out i had let one of his best friends feel me up at a party and then wasn't interested anymore. anyways, back in my subconcious, he was riding his bike past my house. a zombie creature who looked like him in zombie form was ridng a bike behind him. the zombie was something he had created for a movie or something. i walked across the street and asked if i could shake the zombies hand, and then shook a bag of doritos at it. the boy told me he would eat me if i did that, so i just went home. moments later i sudden rush of fear came over me and i looked out the peephole in my door. there was the zombies giant monster mouth roaring on the other side. i let out a shreek and then heard laughing on the other side of the door. i found myself shoving the keyes under the door but then realized how stupid i was and pulled them back under. the boy and his zombie ended up getting into my house- i don't know how. the zombie morphed into the scariest monster i've ever seen- his body seemed to be covered in strange dark paper mache scales and his face was hideous. he had the body of a human but moved all hunched over, almost, but not quite on all fours. his head was just an oval, and was covered the way his body was- and his mouth was huge and full of disgustingly grimy teeth, all of which were huge and sharp and would make me bleed to death upon contact with my skin. the boy instructed the zombie to attack me and it tried to do. i kept running in circle around my living room to get away from it, screaming and crying and telling the boy that if he didn't tell his monster to stop i would call my dad. everything in my living room morphed into the style of the monster- the monet on my wall became a framed painting of him, my couches were covered in his scales. i finally started screaming for my dad to come downstairs and make them leave. he did so, and all of a sudden the monster was tame. he started talking like an autistic child. he had a conversation with us about show and tell and trying to find an agent. the boy and his monster left and my living room went back to normal.
maybe i've been spending too much time by myself doing nothing and that's why my dreams are the way they are. or maybe i'm mourning this relationship. or maybe i'm freaking out about college. i'm not trying to regress into an eighth grader and write about how sad i am and how the world is just a big black ball of pain because johnny football doesn't like me in my blog or anything, don't get me wrong. did i even ever go through that phase? i certainly hope not.
i do have a case of the mean reds though. it's been a very internal thing. nothing external has been a catalyst, which is why i can't help but feel like an eighth grader, suffering from herself and almost enjoying wallowing in it all.
maybe it's just this week.
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