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And yet I did try. I tried very hard.
Apr. 22nd, 2007 11:14 pmSaturday night I had the most disturbing dream.
Now, I usually have pretty random dreams that have nothing to do with real life – or even me. I less often have dreams wherein I experience strong emotions, most notably frustration or fear. (In fact, I only consider a dream a nightmare if it makes me wake up in a panic. A dream where I’m, say, being eaten alive by a vindictive clown in a shark suit?** If I don’t feel fear, it’s not a nightmare.)
This night’s dream creeped me out. First off, it was me in it, Real Life me at that. Second, it was really mundane. It had very little of the whole “dreamlike randomness” and a heck of a lot of “waking life sequential logic***”. The kind of realism that makes you wake up and wonder if it was real.
( The dream. )
I suppose you can get a pretty good idea of what’s preying on my mind from this dream. For one, I’m more than a bit concerned about my mental health. Not enough of do anything about it, but enough to sometimes just stop and stare at myself, if you will, and say, "Girl, this is as far as it can go. Really."
I’ve already discussed this at length with Kit-kat and, if I were writing this with internet-access, I’d go check out the emails and see what they led to. I’m going to go ahead and LJ-Cut the rest of this sorry mess of "woe is me". If you do read, please take with a grain of salt. Obviously my memory takes some sort of perverse pride in recalling the bad times better than the good. ( Read more... )
( More Blogthings: Misanthropy, and Emotional Maturity )
* A. Huxley, The Island (which I never finished)
** No, I’ve never had this dream. Would be neat if I had, though.
*** Except for that bit where my mother tried to roast ribs in a bus. You can’t really blame her, as the bus’ heating was a bunch of electrical wires strung across the windows. (Yeah…)
Now, I usually have pretty random dreams that have nothing to do with real life – or even me. I less often have dreams wherein I experience strong emotions, most notably frustration or fear. (In fact, I only consider a dream a nightmare if it makes me wake up in a panic. A dream where I’m, say, being eaten alive by a vindictive clown in a shark suit?** If I don’t feel fear, it’s not a nightmare.)
This night’s dream creeped me out. First off, it was me in it, Real Life me at that. Second, it was really mundane. It had very little of the whole “dreamlike randomness” and a heck of a lot of “waking life sequential logic***”. The kind of realism that makes you wake up and wonder if it was real.
( The dream. )
I suppose you can get a pretty good idea of what’s preying on my mind from this dream. For one, I’m more than a bit concerned about my mental health. Not enough of do anything about it, but enough to sometimes just stop and stare at myself, if you will, and say, "Girl, this is as far as it can go. Really."
I’ve already discussed this at length with Kit-kat and, if I were writing this with internet-access, I’d go check out the emails and see what they led to. I’m going to go ahead and LJ-Cut the rest of this sorry mess of "woe is me". If you do read, please take with a grain of salt. Obviously my memory takes some sort of perverse pride in recalling the bad times better than the good. ( Read more... )
( More Blogthings: Misanthropy, and Emotional Maturity )
* A. Huxley, The Island (which I never finished)
** No, I’ve never had this dream. Would be neat if I had, though.
*** Except for that bit where my mother tried to roast ribs in a bus. You can’t really blame her, as the bus’ heating was a bunch of electrical wires strung across the windows. (Yeah…)
