Day 3

It's been months since I one of those wonderful dreams, the kind that are just too happy; one of those too-good-to-be-true's.

When my eyes slowly opened, I was surprised I didn't burst into a fit of rage. There's usually a twinge of anger if I don't want to leave a dream. This time, I laid in bed, afraid to move a muscle for fear of the dream-goodness leaving me. I was overwhelmed at its realness, but I had to let him know about it too.

I grabbed for my phone, only to find that it died during the night. So I sacrificed the Goodness to search for the charger. And to my relief, it didn't take long to locate, and the Goodness was still fresh when I slipped back into bed. I texted speedily with my hands. And so far, that has been the longest text I have ever sent without a phone freezing on me. Boy, if it had...

In my dream, I think Sam & I went to a wind ensemble concert at what was supposed to be the university, but of course as in a dream, it looked nothing like it. I showed him around campus and described the strange people I was curious enough to watch during "school days". One of them was a young man singing karaoke in a library.

Eventually, it was nighttime and the lights were glowing brightly. (I enjoyed it even though I find the nighttime to be a bit disorienting now). He and I walked arm in arm, or arms wrapped around each other.

Somehow, it turned into a sunnier afternoon, but still cool and crisp. A pair of young Asian men tried to trip us. We fumbled, but we never lost our footing. They walked ahead of us and muttered something under their breaths. I couldn't understand them, but I knew they were teasing us for being in love. We held onto each other just the same, and I even squeezed even tighter.

He felt so real. He wasn't a blur this time. Nor did he morph into someone else only for me to keep assuming it was him. He was simply himself. In high definition. His cheek was clean-shaven and soft against mine when we touched, there was a grin on his face, and his voice clearly at my right. His hair, in single curly locks (just the way it's supposed to be), was brushed against my face as I smiled and "affectionated". I could feel his body in my arms as I held him tighter.

I was about to explain something. We were about to go around a corner...

Instead I found reality before me, and as I said, I was surprised I didn't have a fit of rage... and that I wasn't clinging to my body pillow. I held an imaginary body in my mind and it felt so real without the power of suggestion from a pillow. I'm not entirely sure how to describe the feeling, but it was a bit of pride.



I will always wish for that dream every night.


I "half-fixed" my fathers Nikon FG. I'll find out of it's fully functioning after the film gets developed. I'm not sure how promising the outcome will be since the shutter works, the advancer's numbers don't change, but I can tell it's advancing the film... just after putting in new batteries, no LED lights have showed themselves as functional.

Oh, but I do love the clicking sound it makes...

[I forgot to talk about paper children, and this is simply a reminder for me in the future...]


I read that page I loved from the first time I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I loved it the first time, but today's reading only made me cry. Hot, choking, smothering my whimperings...


I'm so terrified I'll never be happy. The possibility of getting up and leaving my family seems so........... Good. I want it to happen now... before I grow older and galavanting in my own fashion is prohibited.

But I could never leave them. Not so abrupt.
Though I've always wished I had no family.
(This will be an introduction to my two-sidedness, which I hope to explain sometime).

I'm afraid I'm going to waste my time. I was robbed of my teen-years, and I was still good during my college years. I want something strange, I want something loud. I want to be able to skip in the darkest nights and scream my rage and desire to live. But...

now I feel nothing. So useless. So dead and empty. God help me find my life...
sometimes I wish I could think myself out of existence.