I need a dream analyst.

So I sincerely need a dream analyst, I had the most disturbing series of dreams last night, all of which were very confusing and terrifying.

I’ve had a sincere lack of sleep of late and decided to hit the hay a little early — 10 pm, I know it’s not THAT early, but considering my work and gym schedule it was fairly well founded. Anyways, here it goes.

The dream sequence one commenced with my family and I waiting in line at what seemed to be Grand Central station, it was around Christmas time as there was a very large Christmas tree in the area, surrounding me were the white marble walls and the typical retractable ropes indicating the queue. There wasn’t really a problem, we were sitting around chatting about meaningless nonsense while standing in line for something — when I first noticed this couple — something made me recall that there was something wrong about them, that I had to stop them in their task , something bad was going to happen. The man was tall and had long brown hair and glasses, he sported a long leather travel coat, well worn. The girl was shorter, had an equally oval face, pale blonde hair that matched her skin tone, opalescent eyes and large glasses. Both stared at me for a few seconds before I suddenly ran after them, trying to stop them (from doing what I didn’t know at the time). They suddenly reach the area near the Christmas tree and there is what looks like a railroad switch there, as there was a train going around the tree this all seemed to make sense, but they had apparently set up a mouse-trap like mechanism, it was a bomb.

Suddenly there was an explosion, blinding white light, the screeching in my ears and pain was all across my body, the brightness flashed across my eyes and it seemed that I had succumbed to the pain — passing out or going into shock. All I remember thinking for that seemingly eternal moment is “is this what it’s like to die? is this the epitome of pain?”. I came to, somehow, still suffering and bleeding profusely, I had stood literally 20 paces from the bomb, my proximity to the blast should have been fatal. However, I was one of the only survivors. I ran out, fleeing, not knowing what else to do. My entire back, shoulders and chest were razed with bits of schrapnel, bleeding profusely. I ran down the street as if a convict, dipping in and out of various hallways so quickly it was all a blur. I talked with one young man while I’d stopped to bandage my woulds and he asked me what happened — interrogating me. The only words that I could muster were a whispered “they almost got me”. This turned into some giant assassination attempt in my mind (not that I’m even that important — but in dreams things tend to transform unknowingly).

Then I find myself in what seems to be an old west town — modernized slightly, but most everything is open air and everything. I’d been hiding out with my grandmother, she was doting on me and the pantry was stocked with an abundance of food. I hadn’t actually experienced it, but I knew that I had been there for months, never going out, always staying in. Today was the day that I was going to leave — escape. My grandmother wasn’t very happy about it. But, you know how it goes. So I go downstairs and down the main drag of the town, to a saloon with the large fake storefront — painted black. Inside, people dressed in the typical costume of the day (or really, think Wild Wild west). I was confronted with people, angry that I was alive, not knowing how I survived the blast, they were angry, and started chasing after me with their guns drawn. This is when the second most terrifying part of the dream happened (after the whole…bomb thing) — as soon as they reached sunlight these men transformed into giant black shadowy beings, mutated muppets one might even say, with large glowing eyes and hugely disproportionate stretched out bodies.

They chased me everywhere, the small  town transformed into a large city, and around each turn there was one of these shadowy figures, gnashing their large pointy teeth and chasing after me (think GENGAR). My heart pounded and my mind raced as I looked desperately for an escape. None could be found — I simply woke up, very suddenly, sweating profusely and only to discover that I was tangled in all three of my blankets and had somehow thrown my tigger across the room.

Strangest dream to date.

I’m a little upset.

A more serious blog post.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately sitting around and contemplating my life. Yesterday on the long train ride back from Davis Square, I found myself looking at my darkened reflection in the window, a mere shadow of the person that I am, the light has faded from my eyes and the smile that once seemed to be so easy to come now has it’s own struggle to be genuine. I’m not trying to say that I’m depressed, I just feel lost, I’ve lost myself in the real world, in college drama, in schoolwork, in work  work. In all of this commotion, my ability to be me has been lost, and I don’t know who I really am anymore.

 

I don’t exactly know what I’m trying to write about, I know I am trying to facilitate change in my life. I feel that people I once considered to be the best of friends I can now no longer communicate with, that I’m being brought down by people I still would give anything to if I could. I’m empty, the spoon is scraping on the bottom of the bowl, and there’s just nothing else that I can give. I don’t know what more people want of me, I understand that it is the nature of man to take, but how does no one realize that there is nothing left? I am here, left, a mere shell of whom I once was.

 

I have set new goals to commence on Saturday. I am getting dreadlocks (much to my parents dismay) and I am hoping that they will help me facilitate a change in my life which has now become stagnant and borderline rancid. I want to enjoy the sunshine (whenever it finally comes), be healthier, and overall be a better me. This is something that I need that I feel noone has really understood thus far. I still have those old joys in me, they just need to be coerced out, I want to read comic books and be excited again. To watch Cartoons and laugh, to be able to hang out with my friends and not have every other day turn into a shitshow. I crave some normalcy, some consistency and some vibrancy, I want it back in my life. Hopefully the April rains and sunny May will bring that to me. I can only hope.

 

In the meantime, for happier Easter-ish thoughts. Look at the peepshow. LOOK AT IT.

The day before Christmas, one would hope that it would be Merry.

Giant gingerbread houses? Seriously who comes up with these ideas besides that child eating witch in Hansel and Gretel. I think that my mother has officially gone crazy when she says that this “sightseeing” is the equivalent of family bonding time. All I can think about is the miserable two and a half hour long car ride that it’s going to be to get there, just to arrive to some old lady with perfectly coiffed hair undoubtedly offering me cider and then reciting each and every useless detail as to the construction of it. Honestly, since we are in the south, all I can assume to be accurate is the fact that it was probably made by Mexicans.

In other news, I think that I and every other procrastinator in the country has decided to shop today. I, for one, am really just aggravated that GameStop thinks there’s going to be a massive post-holiday rush and refuses to sell me a Nintendo DS today, when I know for a fact that there are 20 in the back. Oh, the benefits of being a GameStop employee — and a female employee at that. Multiple encounters with the third kind (pimply faced pubescent boys with 3-day old grease in their hair asking me if I actually played video games, who were then for some reason shocked at the fact that my gamerscore is higher than theirs.) led me to realize that working a job in retail should really put you on the fast track to sainthood. I hope that the Pope is taking notes. Another minor insult along these same lines is when boys are like “wow, you know what torrents are”. Really? REALLY?

Jim Halpert, where are you in real life so that I can marry you now.

As for my comments on women here is one thing you should know (I will try to include one of these every update):

1. If you ever make a comment about our physical appearance that is negative we will never forget it, but for some reason if you call us beautiful, we pretend we never heard it as an excuse to hear it more often.

• This includes compliments of our clothing, if you say we look nice in something, it’s a guarantee that we will wear it    more. I also swear that every woman has that pair of “ass jeans” that they think makes them look two sizes smaller.
• Those Twix commercials, listen to them for God’s sake

Damn this writers strike is really affecting me, I’m so glad that I have Jon Stewart in my basement in case I need any dry and witty humor.

My goal for the remainder of Christmas break aside from playing through a stack of violent video games is to learn this entire dance so that I’m ready for each and every random dance party that comes along.

First post ever (oh hooray, the blog lives)

Generally, I feel that I lack enthusiasm for new things not pertaining to design and the typeface Helvetica. However, after reading numerous articles in the New York Times stating that some sort of statistic-y percentage of teenage girls have a blog, I feel that my input is necessary.

Girls are confusing, emotional, terribly bitchy creatures which men fail to understand. I feel that a vast majority of my gender gives me a bad name, and that a synchronized worldwide period (aka, “Crimson Tide”, “Red October” or as my mom likes to call it “the unwanted visitor”) could be considered a natural disaster comparable to hurricane Katrina. It completely baffles me how a girl in my sociology class can stand up and ask if I feel oppressed because I have a vagina — the frank answer would be “Yes” only because whiny, wimpy girls like her exist to bring the collectives image down.

I have yet to decide on the true topic of this blog. I will do my best to include reviews of video games and movies, current events, as well as the regular every day insight into the female mind that I know most men crave, because really, women are crazy bitches. I promise to do my best and attempt to spell everything correctly, combining it, whenever possible, with proper grammar (not that I actually learned any of this in my secondary education experiences).

In the meantime you should watch this video about Mormons, I had to watch this in Bible class senior year, then when I encountered a Black Mormon girl — I couldn’t stop laughing hysterically.