Dreams

I've been having a recurring dream.

In it, I'm in school again, and it's November. And I haven't been attending classes, and I don't understand the material being taught. Then I learn that the midterm either just happened, and I missed it, or that it's coming up in a day or two. And there's no way to make it up. Then I learn my marks are low, and that there's no hope. And I end up feeling this massive hopeless feeling that I can't shake off.

That's where I usually wake up, and I remember that I'm not in school yet. It's starting to worry me.

Imaginings.

Here we go.

I'm making it onwards unto my goal, and all that I see below me is naught but a fire riddled landscape, flaming up and flaring up, decimating all that lays before it.

That thing I sought is gone. It's gone forever, and I'm never getting back, no matter how I try.
It's been stolen from me, and no matter how I cry and how I whine, and how I tear up, it shalt never be returned.

All that I thought was real is gone, and replaced with a pale imitation of that was ripped from my soul so quickly.

It's gone. It's gone and I want it back. You bastards, why did you take it from me? It was mine! How did I bother you with it, and why would you want to hurt me for that small thing. That small victory.

That small dignity.
It was all I had.

Another One

Well, that's disappointing. There I go off on some sort of stream of consciousness piece, and then I find out a paragraph or two in that I haven't managed to type out a damned thing

That's just irritating. Oh well.

Here i go again though, the curtains on the wall being transparent as always, and this ever present wall of gray in the sky above me seeming to loom. I suppose it's a ceiling. Whatever. I just want a blue sky and a sunny day.

Or is that what I just keep telling myself? I'm not entirely sure. I think it might be the actual problem, but I can't figure it out until the sun deigns to actually try shining on down.

Christ there's a lot of dishes in the sink downstairs. I should really clean them today. There is a part here tomorrow after all which I'm not entirely sure I'm looking forward to. I don't know why, but I seem to be looking forward to it with the same sense of abstract dread that... Is today Friday?

Shit. It's only Friday. Why do I keep thinking it's Saturday. Quirky's not on HSN til tomorrow. Why the hell am I still up? I should have gone to bed hours ago. I finished my scene in the plot hours ago, and I've just been sitting here, diddling around. What a waste of potential sleeping tme. I continue though. Whatever.

Brain. I think that I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Where it's happy. And there's not a puddle in my car, or laundry I have to do. I hate doing laundry. God.

I think that I need to figure out what it is I'm looking for. It's a very slowed down thought process I am suffering from right noww. Really odd, and hard to track. I need to think but it's fuzzy. What can I say?

Something

SAnd there I was and there I am and there I thought I will be.
All that I was and am was laid out
Things that I thought I knew were shown to be false.

All the little things around me are in flux, and drifting on the wind
Curtains close, and I cannot see the outside world.
The lamp's brightness blinds me.
The doorway opens.

Out there is a thing. A thing undescribable.
Out there is a thing. A thing I cannot see.