Between the hours of 10 p.m. and 7 a.m., I slept hard, but woke up often, having to go to the bathroom four or five times during the night. While I did drink at least 3 cans of Diet A & W Cream Soda (the best soda in all of the land) and one glass of skim milk within the two hours before bed, I do believe I'm able to see through my slumber interruptus. My REM states made me uncomfortable, and my dreams caused unpleasant waking thoughts.
For some reason, the plotlines revolved around former friends and situations that I'd never want to be in again (though I think I know why, something to do with the fact that I've been nosing around this week on the ever-hated internet community and my belief in the dream-lag effect). Ones having to do with people currently thousands of miles away on the unsubmerged portion of Zealandia. Ones having to do with being at the house of a person I'm sure I'll never see again (she lives in the Southwest), of her being the always-accommodating yet ever-judging presence that gave me her phone during a call between her and Mr. Zealandia just so that I could interact with him, even though he thought I was her. Then, meeting up with the root of the root of all my trouble in all of her glory and for once not being cursed out or attacked with glares. Instead she spoke with me and attempted civil conversation, which I'm sure is something that will never be a reality.
It was a dream highly focused on communication and contact with people that I don't have any desire to communicate with anymore. All of it was awkward, and there were lots of muted, yellow tones. To top it off, I went shopping, definitely feeling that I was wasting money, (I remember buying candles, household knickknacks, and clothes), to come back home and find out that my boyfriend has been sleeping with someone else. I remember asking, "Are you sleeping with someone else?" He said, "Yes." It made me very sad, and I felt that I deserved that betrayal somehow.
Anyway, as Dani says, happy Waitangi Day.
8 comments:
what crap dreams
Yo, yo, yo.
I recall you saying that you had some Mediocre At Best pictures from the Winneconne Battle of the Bands, back in the day. If you had any of those pictures on your computer, I would be happier than a Christmas clam if you sent copies of them my way.
End communication.
While I was originally going to mention an odd dream I had - I first have to ask:
What in the holy hell is a Christmas clam, CDP?
I think a Christmas clam's a really happy clam for a couple reasons-- 1) a clam's already pretty happy, so it's got that going for it 2) on Christmas, clams aren't the main course (i.e. turkey or ham), so also more happy 3) it's effing Christmas so the clam gets presents.
And, yes, I do have M@B pictures. They're in volume 2 of my photo albums. They are not, however, uploaded digitally in any fashion. Let's brainstorm some ideas to make this happen.
I even have Rep. Watlet pictures if you really want a blast from the past. And, yes, I still have my t-shirt, too.
Kenny, you're a genius. Thank you.
I'm a sucker for archiving and filing everything that I've ever done in my life, so yes, any way I can get my hands on photos of myself are greatly appreciated. Every last one of them.
As an aside, it was very cool of you to take and save those photographs. My nature dictates that I throw away everything that I own twice a year, but I'm trying very hard to curb that, as destroying your memories is a really depressing way to live.
I have a scanner, and we have to set a play date.
You're a sucker for archiving and filing, yet your nature tells you to throw everything away? My God, you are a complex creature. I thought my dichotomies were confusing.
Playdate it is! You were also heavily documented during our 8th grade trip to DC, if that's worth anything to you.
I archive and file as a way to combat my 'throw everything away' nature. By attempting to balance two completely opposite things, I've assured myself that I'll never be happy.
I've accepted this.
All of your photos of me need to become a part of my collection. What few photos that I took and saved from my youth are currently in the clutches of my Mother, who likes to cut them up for scrapbooks. I'll almost certainly never see them again.
Let me talk to the Missus and see what the next several days look like, and we can work something out. I'm sure you're busier than us, however, so you might want to e-mail me with your two cents.
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