I keep meaning to change this page. What to say, though? That's the question I've been asking myself for the past week. What to say, and why should I bother at all? I look back over the past year of my life and it feels like a pleasant dream that turned into a nightmare.
Who knows when dreams turn into nightmares? It seems to me to be a slow process. One thing goes wrong. In your dream, you are going to get cups. That's all--you're out of cups, and you need more. Simple enough thing. And this is your nightmare, drawing in its first breath.
You go into the warehouse to get cups, and of course there are none. One snarl in a dream is like fabric caught in the sewing machine. Once it starts there's no hope for undoing things. Now you need those cups. So you jog outside. Oh, you really ought to walk. If you must enter a nightmare, walk.
Now outside it is overcast night, and there is soft powder snow on the ground. You jog to a little gray house. Trotting alongside you, not so far away, is the fox. Here he is: your nightmare. You must escape from the fox. And as he approaches you, you run for the door.
You bang on the door. Of course no one answers. Luckily, the door is unlocked. As you swing the door open, you think, "Wait a minute. This door isn't supposed to be unlocked." Outside the fox sits in the snow, grinning. This is how nightmares begin.
Who knows when dreams turn into nightmares? It seems to me to be a slow process. One thing goes wrong. In your dream, you are going to get cups. That's all--you're out of cups, and you need more. Simple enough thing. And this is your nightmare, drawing in its first breath.
You go into the warehouse to get cups, and of course there are none. One snarl in a dream is like fabric caught in the sewing machine. Once it starts there's no hope for undoing things. Now you need those cups. So you jog outside. Oh, you really ought to walk. If you must enter a nightmare, walk.
Now outside it is overcast night, and there is soft powder snow on the ground. You jog to a little gray house. Trotting alongside you, not so far away, is the fox. Here he is: your nightmare. You must escape from the fox. And as he approaches you, you run for the door.
You bang on the door. Of course no one answers. Luckily, the door is unlocked. As you swing the door open, you think, "Wait a minute. This door isn't supposed to be unlocked." Outside the fox sits in the snow, grinning. This is how nightmares begin.
- Last seen on Mar 23 5:43 PM. Member since February 9, 2002.
- I'm a onyx dragon poet for 765 comments.
- My mood is , and quote is "'Barn's burnt down...now I can see the moon.' -Masahide".
- I am a girl from Alaska (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm nobody.
- I have 765 comments, 5 poems
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Drivel on July 26, 2008just got you're last message. wanted to let you know i am now in msla. numbers the same though. lol and just reconnected with jodi and hannah. well we went out one night so far. both have cleaned up (drug wise), which is good. jodi has the cutest little girl i have ever seen. baby still, but already has half her mothers ridiculous amount of hair.
*loves* -
Drivel : tired on February 29, 2008hey. tired. going to bed now. haven't been up to anything except working. conformed to the masses and am on facebook. its not too bad. you should try it so we can message easier. you still workin at the book store up there?
*loves* -
Drivel : Ola on September 21, 2007hi! tell me whats up!
*loves* -
Drivel : winter on March 7, 2007i like the piece on winter above. very expressive and simple. winter is pretending to let up here. you know, when it gets sunny and above 50 in the afternoons right before it fucks you in the ass with the last snow storm of the year? lol
*loves*
