10 October, 2006, 1208 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’m in love with you completely; I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”

She said, “You can sleep upon my doorstep.  You can promise me indifference, Jim.  But my mind is made up and I’ll never let you in again.”

For the slow fade of love, it might hit you from below.  It’s your gradual descent into a life you never meant.  It’s the slow fade of love.

I had a dream last night that I was trying to switch to the left lane to make a turn, but there was a small, crappy white car constantly hovering in my blind spot; when I sped up or slowed down, it would, too.  So I couldn’t switch lanes.  It pissed me off.  Is this some sort of a sign that there’s something/someone hovering in the next lane over, preventing me from changing the direction of my life?  I really think it’s significant, especially considering I remembered it.  Also considering I’m trying to make a left turn in life; I’m not completely trying to turn everything around.  Just make a few major changes that mean a lot to me.  Minor changes, I think, would have been a right turn, but I wouldn’t settle for a right turn.  I had to make that left.

That made me curious when I woke up as to hallway side favouritism.  I have always thought of the hallways in schools as roads with lanes and turns and timing and stopping.  Since people walk on the right side of the hallway in America, does that mean that in a country with left-side driving, they walk on the left side of the hallway?  I’m curious.

During my 16-hour sleep, too, on Saturday night, I had a dream about love.  It was in the third-person omniscient point of view, though, like a TV show.  There were these two toddler lovers who lived in this creepy gothic stone mansion, which sat right next to a huge lake covered in rose petals and cherry blossoms.  I mean, it looked like a lake full of those suckers.  Almost no water.  There was this evil tree next to the house, too, that could uproot himself from the ground and walk around and terrorize people.  He was intense and really frightening.  Well, the toddler lovers went for a walk.  Actually, they reminded me a lot of the Adams family, as did their home.  The girl sort of looked like Samantha the American girl doll, hairstylewise and clotheswise–in fact, she was wearing Samantha’s tea dress/brithday dress, I think.  Yes, birthday.  I used to love Samantha because she looked like me.  Until I cut my hair.  Well, she looked like Samantha meets Wednesday, though, because her hair was black and her face was just really creepy.  The boy, on the other hand, looked almost just like Gomez Adams, only maybe a little pale.  I think his hair was a little more attractive, too.  He did have the mustache, though.  Ew.  They were walking by the evil tree, who I guess they didn’t know was evil, despite the fact that they, like, OWNED HIM?!  I would have thought he worked for them or something.  Well, the tree grabbed the boy with linguini-like limbs and thrust him about a hundred feet in the air.  The girl was terrified and upset.  Then the tree ran away with the little boy, and the girl was left to cry and mourn her loss over her surely dead lover on the banks of the cherry blossom lake.

Christina Ricci lately

Love is love.  I think the boy eventually battled the tree or escaped and tried to get home, but that’s very vague.  I know that I appeared inside the Gothic mansion, though, after my Sims 1.5 dream, and I roamed the stone hallways and had intense feelings of hurt and loss and anger at different points in my dream.  Maybe love, probably not love.  I walked in on someone in the bathroom; they were taking a huge bubble bath.  Yeah.  Not an erotic one; just a fucking overflowed bubble bath.

I used to have this reoccurring dream in first grade that my best friend and his best guy friend were knights and I was a princess and that they were saving me from a dragon, and that we took an elevator to get out of the castle.  But I was hardcore, and they were afraid of the dragon, so I was always the one who had to fight it.  I sort of just remember the elevator part, though.

I wasn’t really that hardcore as a kid, but I was cute.  Very girly, too.  I used to cry if my mom made me wear pants to school.  That girly.  I always wanted to be a tomboy, though.  Not the kind that played sports, not really, considering I knew I would never be good at sports, and thus, unlike my sisters, never did sports, but I just wanted to be able to relate to them, and to have friends who were boys.  To listen to boy music.  And it seems that now that I’ve accomplished being that kind of a weird tomboy, it’s not as appealing as it originally sounded.  The tomboys from elementary school are still kinda ugly, but they’re more feminine than me; attractiveness is not an issue.  It’s an awkward state of being.



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