Finally, An Awesome Dream

      I guess it can still happen; today, I did not dream about homicide and children being ripped apart by animals. Or my criminal step-father—yay! The weird part is, I had this dream many years ago. It featured the same girl I never met. Her name was Paige.

      Like before, she had long, wavy, light brown hair and a huge smile. She was doing all the same things, all the same way. I guess I am getting ahead of myself. I meet her inside a mall, which gets closed while a lot of people, including myself, are inside. But the dream starts inside a crappy little house filled with bugs, and my grandmother's things. Things I haven't seen for almost 20 years, things that were promised to me after her passing. The world's ugliest chair, with wooden knobs poking out of the arm rests and little barns and farm animals all over. Her rocking chair, dresses. Et cetera.

      The house had rafters, too; so it was actually pretty barn-like. I remember looking at the window and seeing a bus go by. Then I come up these stairs, and find my grandmother's things. I'm going through them, and the dream is practically on mute. Like there's a reverent silence or something; kind of out of character for me, not going to lie. Anyway, I'm kneeling, and somebody else comes up the stairs, sees my leg on the floor and runs over, concerned for my welfare and actually saying my name. I can't remember if this person is male or female, so I'll do something I hate and refer to this person as them. God, I hate that so much. Anyway, I ask them if they will be keeping them safe forever, they say yes, and I just hug them and accept it (again, very out of character; I guess in my dreams, I'm nice or something). Because at least I know the possessions are safe.

      Okay, now I'm at the mall. It's so crazy detailed. I'm shopping and hating it, but taking my time; that's actually perfectly in character. I'm supposed to be with a group, but they're not waiting for me and I don't care, good riddance to anyone who wants me to rush. I'll freaking walk home at my speed. I'm looking at PS4s, GameCubes, even movies. I'm seeing Logan, and it's actually got Hugh Jackman on the cover. It's crazy detailed. There's lights, cleaners, other people shopping in every direction. That's when I get to the end and think I'm locked in for the night, my group is locked out. Whatever, I don't care; they've got bathrooms, the people who serve food are in there, I'm starting to think it's April Fool's and the workers have reached their capacity for imagination. Or they're exceeding it.

      Then Paige and her family wave me over, and ta-da, the other end of the mall is wide open. Maybe they really are closing, and they just can't get all the doors at once. But now, I find it in my heart to hurry. We get outside the mall, and all of a sudden I'm Brooke Nevin. I guess all that shopping went to my head.

      I'm even leaving stuff out, like the part where I give Paige and her mother a necklace. Keep in mind I have no idea now if they were mine, my grandmother's, or if I shoplifted them both.

      I've been dreaming of actors a lot lately. The man who told me the mall was closed, for one. And yesterday, I dreamt that I was floating in zero gravity with Howard and Bernadette. Go figure. It has been so bloody long since I watched Big Bang Theory!

      But normally, I fall asleep for a few minutes at a time and wake up if I roll over. This sleep, which took me two hours, was actually enough. I feel capable of doing what I have to do. Which is good. Because the buses aren't running anymore, and I have to do a lot of walking tomorrow. I'm considering not even talking to my friends. Just get home, bathe in Purell, and hope my heart doesn't explode. Or my lungs don't collapse. Or my throat doesn't close. Damn those buses.

      Negan appears the most. I guess he's the man of my dreams. 😄

Yippee, Skippy

      I have less than an hour left of being 29. On Friends, the characters freak out on their 30th birthdays and I'm just not seeing what the big deal is. I doubt it'll freak me out in 50 minutes. I have always had a hard time feeling emotion, and it's been getting worse.

7th Hell

       On the seventh, I'm guessing, I just wanted to sleep. Instead, I had to go on a short-notice shopping trip. We live in a very hilly area, with a slanted driveway and two flights of steps. It's hell, especially with my heart and lungs. Actually I did sleep, just long enough to have a nightmare; and again it involved a firetruck crashing. This time I was a firefighter, too; and I arrived on scene to find a firetruck on its side. Two people were attempting to push it back up onto its wheels. Then, because four people couldn't do the trick, I got fired and I was just glad to be done with that job. Never actually had a job; but I'm an incredibly lucid dreamer and I've been playing a lot of Sims 3 Ambitions... Take from that what you will.

      Anywho, when we got back from the store, I went to sleep for awhile. Woke up at dinnertime and went to the washroom looking forward to having my nice hot chicken. Came out, and it was all gone! They didn't leave me a single bite; they didn't even refrigerate my portion. How fucked up is that? I paid $220 for groceries and didn't even get a cold meal.

      I'm a vindictive person. I'm thinking about drinking all the special, pulpy orange juice and then asking them if they wanted any.

Ugh, LIFE

       I had plans today. I was going to have a hamburger dinner, and then a smoothie. Or maybe I'd do the smoothie for breakfast. Well, my family didn't leave me any burgers, and there was no ice. I was offered a grilled cheese, but apparently I can't do cheese anymore. I think I'm still recovering from the sandwich I had this morning. I was also offered bacon, but I can't really do that, either.
      So my food plans are shot to hell; and everything else is slowly going up in smoke, too. My game is going great, but the program it runs on is going to be replaced and a lot of players have lost everything. A lot of players haven't, but I've never been one of the lucky ones (except for three times I managed to correct my balance before I fell). My book is going okay, I guess, but I've never been able to save my work long-term. Put it on a CD? Uh-oh, the CD has become corrupt. Email it to yourself? Uh-oh, you've been hacked and now it belongs to someone else.

      On the topic of bad luck, now I keep having the same dream, where I'm pulling this thing almost as long as me, out of my mouth! You have no idea how horrifying that is. I have mentioned being able to feel my dreams. Imagine feeling that. And if it isn't that, I'm stuck in a maze and all the toilets are very public. Or there's a crash, or an animal attack, or someone I love dies. Sometimes in a very brutal way. Like getting shot at least twenty times within seconds.

      I've started to wonder, honestly, if I am or will be a psychopath. I wasn't thinking that before Canada reached Defcon 2, and I felt nothing. I was more scared of spiders than I was of Defcon 2. But of course no Defcon 2 ever traumatized me as a little girl. The thought I might be or will be a psychopath couldn't scare me, either. I just didn't care. I don't care. I'm trying to, but I don't.

      So I've just been in bed a lot, and I'm stuck. I hate being asleep, and I hate being awake. I've tried so many things to help me sleep. Pills, a hot bath, a hard walk, Vicks, Aloe Vera, intense heat on my back, and if you're related to me, then you're going to wish you hadn't continued reading, because I've also tried gratification. Whatever, it's my fucking blog and I'm fucking old; leave me alone. The only thing I haven't tried that we are capable of getting in this house, a lot, is wine. I've been so against it. I see what it does. I know it can destroy you. But it does get tempting. My mother swears by it, says it helps her sleep. Now all I can think about is that I've been that person who thinks they know more without having one moment of personal experience.

      What I have done, I've even combined. I still couldn't sleep for eleven days. I'm pretty sure that hell predates our getting placed into a hotel, which was over 100 days ago, and I'm still messed up from that. My bedroom is still not finished. Like, how fucking lazy is this landlord? Worst part is, he's probably vacationing somewhere beautiful, feeling great.

      Maybe that dream is why I always feel so nauseous. It could also be worms; I passed one once and it hid in the toilet until someone else found it. I didn't even know I'd passed it until he was freaking out, asking if I was okay. Not since I've been alive; why do you ask?

      I can't even believe how humiliating my life is. The only reason I even got up before 8 PM is because I need to get up early tomorrow, which means I'll need a shampoo tonight, which means I'll need to wait a few hours before I can bend over without screaming in pain. I hate my bed. I hate that I've had it for so long. I hate that I'm too broke to get a new one. I hate that so many people are too broke to take care of themselves. I hate that it's only getting worse.

      I hate life.

Another Late Entry, Another Dream

      Buckle up, buttercup, I'm just getting started.

      In The Sims 3, there are songs the characters can learn when they go on vacation. In my dream, one of those songs became a sound-track, with instrumentals, and it sounded amazing. That is what I heard as I saw a man leave his home, which, upon reflection, was the title character's apartment building from House MD. Not long after the man left, his wife began inviting multiple men into their home; but the husband returned early. Everyone began yelling, and then the husband started beating the wife's other partners to death...with a pillow. I saw the feathers fly.

    In the next scene, I hear a teenage boy rambling aimlessly, as though he were a teenage girl. Then I, of course, see House. He looks like he's a million miles away. He's visiting an amusement park or something. He's going to investigate the murder, because he's either a part of the LAPD or Chicago PD.

    Unfortunately that's all I can remember right now, but the Sims 3 song sounded incredible. Learned in China, the song is called The Love Of Xing Lo. I really don't want to forget how it sounded. But I will. It was played slower, and sung by a man who actually didn't sound terrible, like all the male Sims. That's even better than how fucking accurate it is! That's my new favorite dream right there. I mean, yeah, it's got a killer in it――but hey! At least he cushioned the blow...

Game Rambles

       I decided tonight that I would play Sims 3. It had been awhile since I geeked out like that in the AM. Things were going fine, until my Sims returned from France. It had taken me 7 out of 9 days of their vacation, but I finally, finally, got a high quality Avornalino. Then I started a mission about making nectar, so I put the fruit into her boyfriend's inventory, to make absolutely sure it wouldn't be used. When she was done, I put the fruit back into her inventory and they went home...and now it's nowhere to be found. Not in her inventory, not in his inventory, not in the family inventory.

      So weird. So many glitches. My Sim also should have maxed out her gardening skill, but once it reached zero, her tabcast died and then it said 14 hours. PMO.

     Hah, oops. Now she's pretty much a day late to work on her garden. It's not going so well right now, but I had an idea. I think this time around, she's going to have a child with her boyfriend, then I'll have him leave her, and she'll have another child with his brother. Or not; I kind of prefer to start with Sims who both have parents, and neither of them do. So maybe I'll make a single male for her instead. Again, or not. Hell, I might just keep her; do what I used to do. Max out every skill I know to exist, get a vacation home in all three places, and upload her to the Exchange.

      Everything's up in the air right now. Suits me fine. I can't under-stand people who only play for challenges created by someone else.

Late Entry

       I've been having some weird dreams lately, which I guess is what my blog is for now. My favorite weird recent dream is the Rollerblading one. It started out in a mall, and I was going from one end to the other, just practicing. Ended up getting so good at it, that I refused to walk normally. I kept my Rollerblades on and even skated through the grass, for some reason. Then a stranger offered me a ride and I ignored them, but they followed me. Luckily I could outdo them on wheels.

      My next memorable dream is when I had people trying to kill me, because I was exhibiting powers. Too much Lucifer, I guess. But they ended up burying me alive, and I fought my way out of the grave.

    And last night I dreamt that my mother made the decision to move my mattress into her room, which we did while my room was being renovated. Except in that dream, my bedroom was complete. Actually, it pretty much is. I even reorganized it to look like how it used to be, before all this. At three in the morning, all by myself; I couldn't handle being displaced anymore. After nearly 100 days of sleeping on the floor, it felt so good to be in my own space under-neath a functional light switch again that I turned it on and off a couple of times.

      But in the mattress dream, somehow my box spring was nowhere to be found. So I moved the mattress back, and bending the mattress into positions it can't be contorted into. And I'm a fucking lucid dreamer; my dream self could feel the work.

      Maybe that's why I'm always tired.

    I guess one of my favorite dreams is breaking into a palace that looked like tower-cut shards of obsidian. The inside was like a cave, though; but I've also dreamt of a gigantic luxury home. I wasn't in there legally, either. And lately, my dream always takes me to the same place; pretty much a room with a glass wall overlooking a balcony, and I'm always in time to see the sunset. That's where I ended up in the Lucifer-ish, buried-alive dream, too.

    I've also dreamt that Negan was punishing, or torturing, people. People who weren't always innocent. One of them was in the shower, and in my dream, it was me. I was looking through the eyes of that person as Negan opened the shower curtain and bludgeoned him to death. There were children and babies, too. But after realizing the error of his ways, Negan decided to punish Carol, who tortured a child in The Walking Dead. It was weird, and not my first Walking Dead dream, either. I've gone from running through the prison from zombies but turning into a fully coherent one, to sitting on a Dumpster with Hershel, and finally to being in a planetarium with Negan, and even the floor and ceiling are screens, too, so the stars are above and beneath us, not just in front of us. It was like we were hovering in space.

      That last dream was at the same time as the one where I was in the Abbotsford mall, but it was flooding. And then a car drove up the escalators and got trapped. I remember because I walked out of the mall and into the planetarium, which replaced the clothing store by the escalators. Which, in real life, it does not.

      Yeah... Dreams are bizarre. I've been wanting to post about them here for awhile now; kind of a late entry. I actually forgot how to justify text and resorted to looking it up. Then, of course, duh.

   I've had other dreams, too. Some of them, I even want to remember. Welcome to my online journal and the rat maze of my brain.