First week of summer, I've read three books, pecked out sheaves (an exaggeration of course) of stories on my typewriter, watched too much t.v. and am ready to move on. Oh yes, I hate to give in to the American Youth stereotype of discontent and in constant need of entertainment...but I'm just not used to this quiet life. They said Seattle was rainy? It's rained every day since I arrived in Portland. Not a complaint though, just a fact: a detail to more colorfully portray the picture that is my life. No it's not the quiet life that I'm discontent with, it's the lack of community. I've been driven so far as to name my typewriter. (His name is Smith if your interested) Well Smith and I keep each other company. Each click of the yellow letters, helps to chase away the solitude and works to make me feel useful. Okay, so I'm really not being useful, but poor Smith has been secluded to the basement, where I found him caked in dust. So I'm helping him, right?
Right...like I said....crazy.
I was thinking about dreams today. I'm not referring to "dreams for the future," or "dreams for my life." I'm talking about the dreams that some times visit us when our conscious is asleep. It's interesting really. If anyone brings up this topic of dreams in a group of people, everyone person instantly springs into action, trying to put forth the most interesting dream they've had. It's almost like a competition. Few people actually care what's in other people's dreams, but for some reason, we all want to share what takes place in our own. What is this? I wonder if we hope that people will recognize our dreams as bits of truth. I wonder if we desire people to see what happens when we are not tightly reigning in our conscious....we want people to know the fantastical elements of our subconscious. I had dream last night. I won't relate it to you. I'm fairly sure it was meaningless, and recounting it would be a bore. So i'll refrain....besides I've actually forgotten. All i know is that I kept waking up in the middle of it. I could feel myself pulling away from the surreal adventure I was in and then I remember squeezing my eyelids shut hard, trying to force myself back into that realm. When I finally woke up....I was disappointed. Hm. I used to actually have "premonition" dreams. I would dream things and then in some form they would happen. It hasn't happened for awhile, but it's caused me to pay close attention to dreams. I thinks dreams are our alter-selves speaking to us. Showing us the life they live and prodding us perhaps into action. I don't really know.
I'm circle thinking...and it's unimportant. . . the result of too much time. Blast. I hate wasting time. (sorry if I've just wasted yours)
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