look people (dreams from shitty second week in january)

okay look. i write this blog for myself and no one but. i write this disclaimer for two reasons. one: JettBOY finally read my scott pilgrim blog. he asked if i would like to amend anything about it. i post a comment to his that said " not really. thanks". two: the next sting of dreams are from a few weeks ago. the dreams reflect how i was feeling about people, places or things. a lot of the dreams have lost lots of details because i don't feel the same way i did a few weeks ago. which brings me to my point. my blog is like pissing over the side of a river. they are just dreams and feelings. i don't need to amend anything cause it's in the past. dreams and thoughts are merely memories. a record of how i felt. it's okay to change the way you feel about things. i never knew it was alright. i'm trying to understand out how it works. just help me out a little bit here okay?

* tyrrell sleeps with my super cute asian friend. on friday night. i think maybe there is a gym or something in the dream. it's in a vast city. lots of cold streets with spiraling smoke. grey blue windows reflecting the outside world.

* in hawaii with paul. the beach is dirty, filled with food shacks. it reminds me of venice beach, even tho i've never been there. the temperature is low; paul and i are both wearing long sleeve shirts. the dream travels to my parents house but doesn't loiter long. i'm at my house alone. plugging my phone into the charger that's inserted into the west wall in the living room. i'm trying to talk to gail on the phone while doing this. did i leave her house, cause there were people there i was avoiding. is that why i tell her i'll call her back, when i hear someone breathing on the phone, besides gail? i tell gail i'll call her back. i hang up the phone but the breathing doesn't subside. it's coming from the loft.



a pudgy not bad looking girl pokes her head out of the loft. she's the one breathing really heavily. she looks like a cross breed between kristie and that annoying yet nice girl that was in my film class. she has a bad blonde bowl cut. i make me way into the loft. tyrrell and sophie are there cuddling, also sporting bleach blonde bowl cuts. tbone squeezes sophie and says something cute to her. there's lots of name calling and ear pulling. trashing of the loft and blurry eyes. do i accomplish throwing them out of the loft? there's graphic punching on the stairs. blood flying everywhere. is this when i fall out of the loft? did i dream that part? or does is just kinda happen. the house is quiet. i'm wearing a seafoam green evening dress. it's kinda like the one in that 'death in vegas' music video, only i hadn't seen it yet. i'm bleeding from the large gash on my right side thats about 8 to 12" long. i go into the kitchen. it's a little different from the real thing. it's like if you combined this house i use to hang out in when i was a kid with the one i live in now, that's what it would be like. the floor in the kitchen is browned with dried blood. tho i don't remember being in there yet. the old scale from my parents house is on the floor. doused with blood. i lay down next to the sink. i'm giving up on life, knowing jett will walk thro the door soon; finding me like a dead fish on the floor. as i rest down, cool blood slipping into the cracks on the floor, the doorbell rings. i psychically know it's jett, he forgot his keys. i get up and let him in. i walk into the living room cursing. i press on the side of the wound. blood slips out onto the floor. i guesstimate that it's 5-7" deep. i feel like the world in useless to me in my over done dress and i want to die.

we are throwing a party. it's post drama with soph and tyrrell. i'm still upset. and i'm trying to explain it to them. i'm in the other room speaking loudly. as soon as i walk in the room where they were i find that they are gone. poaulie is somewhere in the dream but i'm not sure where. what am i doing in the back of the house?

i'm missing a dream.

this shit is depressing. i feel a disconnect from these dreams, cause i'm no longer mad. maybe just a little bit empty. like when your father or your dog just died.