So I had three dreams this morning, in the two hour leeway period between five and seven o'clock. All three were choppy, uniquely different and probably say too much or too little about the person that I am or possibly trying to be.
I'm at some kind of a party at my childhood home, most likely a birthday party or something else along the lines where dozens of family members walk in wearing ridiculous looking hats, carrying gifts. I constantly have dreams about the house I grew up in and moved out of in ninth grade. I call it Phantom Childhood Home Syndrome (See Systems and Symptoms for further information)
Anyway, I'm in the hallway and an ex crush of mine (that is to say if any of our crushes ever truly go away. I'm at the point now where I feel like I'm just moving them around in crass columns trying to determine whether or not any of these people mean much of anything to me anymore.) She's there, standing in front of me, and she says quite plainly "I miss being inside of you." It kind of bugged me out, the camera in my mind's eye soon panning over to my mother who is completely offended by such a statement, even though I completely understand it. She meant that she missed being mentally inside my head, fucking up whatever ins and outs still remain untainted.
Anyway, my mother storms off, I fall apart with my crush for an instant in my childhood bedroom, before she has more impending matters to attend to, and soon I'm listening to the same clock radio I've had my entire life, except it's playing country western music and the first lyrics sung by a heartbroken female voice are the exact same lyrics I wrote for a song about a month ago. I feel like I stole from the worst possible source, and I soon wake up.
I'm running up a hill in the morning, trying to catch some kind of runner's high, working out like the main character of a movie I've never seen before. I reach a peak, a hidden place off the beaten path and there's the sunrise and the sky. It's more beautiful then I've ever seen it before. I've achieved something by making it this far, by myself, with my breath intact.
Then they all pile in. Tons of people, some I know, other's I'm not so sure about. Faceless friends and so forth, all enjoying the same view with me, and not really saying much of anything.
However, it's when I'm moments away from leaving that my one friend shows up and asks me if I happen to have any narcotics, claiming he just needs something to enjoy the scene better. I make up some excuse about trying to remain morally sound with my buds before soon exiting the premises and waking up.
I'm at a party, flat broke, with tons of the same people, and some degenerative drug dealer is attempting to sell me aquamarine colored plants that I'm having a hard time passing up. We all gather around. I test the product and am at a complete loss for what to do next, as I soon wake up a third time.
It's morning. I'm at work; the issues of my dreams are only loosely sorted in the back of my head. I feel better and worse all at the same time, and this is meant to be normal, I think.