Do you ever find yourself wandering off in your own daydreams and realize that life in a daydream is so much more magical than life lived in reality? Except that your daydreams are informed by the reality of life and what you learn from it. So without the boring and the mundane, where would your daydreams be? And aren't they developed as a means to escape the natural limitations that the real world puts upon us? So if we didn't have the real world, where would our daydreams be? AND if we had nothing to compare our daydreams to (i.e. the real world) then how would we know whether or not they were better than something else, since we have never been able to experience that something else. Except that daydreams carry pain as well as pleasure. They carry scars as well as healing.
I've been thinking a lot about my daydreams lately because that seems to be the only thing I'm good at. My humor derives from what I see in my daydreams. Or rather my daydreams develop from my sense of humor. I'm not sure which one is correct, but I like to think that it's the latter. My problem is converting what I dream onto paper, or into any real-world application.
I say this because I'm terribly afraid of never accomplishing anything. I've realized lately that it is only permissible to fail once you've accomplished something great. It's perfectly acceptable that Einstein was thought to be slow witted as a child, because he did something amazing with his brain later on in life. Abraham Lincoln is also another noted early failure. Now he's one of the most revered presidents in our history. But how many other people have failed and gotten nowhere? And how many have never once failed, and yet never accomplished anything spectacular in their lives?
There's a lot more to work out here but I need to study still before I go to sleep. I have two tests tomorrow and I'm ill-prepared for both. It's been an interesting semester. I don't know what to do with myself. I am feeling more than somewhat lost at the moment, but it will pass along soon I think. For now all I can do is try my best and hope it isn't too little too late, as has been the case often in the past. Hmm. Goodnight.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
I dislike quotes and yet I love reading quotable material. Including song lyrics.
I had this uneasy feeling all day, which reminded me strongly of how I felt from the time I was about twelve until seventeen, for at least a majority of the time. It the feeling of being so confused, that the only plausible thing to do was to grow older and wait for time to show me out of my confusion. Not that it would be a magical and painless transition, but more that time would give me the cognitive abilities necessary to help drag myself out of this deep confusion. Although it wasn't exactly confusion. It was also frustration, and quite a bit of yearning. Sometimes I would be so bursting with this pent up yearning for an unrealized ideal that I would fantasize about jumping off buildings, just to release all the caged energy that felt physically trapped within the coils and springs of my heart. The frustration came from my continual inability to actualize whatever it was that I was yearning for. I wasn't even able to properly identify where these intensely felt emotions came from or why altogether, although I knew it had to do somewhat with several different things.
Maybe it was angst. Angst for love which I knew I had never had and therefore could not possibly understand. Angst for achievement, which I knew was the one expectation that I could never really exceed for anyone other than myself. And even then I never really lived up to the expectations I held for myself. Never the A student, nor the first one picked for anything. Always well liked, just never able to properly achieve what others had set for me to do. Never able to achieve what I used to think I wanted to do.
Maybe it was angst towards god. I never once confessed a single sin to my bishop. Never in my life that I can remember. It might have happened once when I was a child but not since puberty that I can remember. I told him that I had never even heard of masturbation, or that I tried it once and didn't like it. (hahahahaha).
I would get so nervous before meeting with him, and I would turn red and sweat and shake, but I never said a word. I told him that my language was perfect (hahahahaha). I never cussed. And since I hated being around the kids in our ward, no one could tell him otherwise.
I remember being forced to go on a camp out once as a boyscout (Which was extremely rare since it was difficult for my mom to make me do anything I didn't want to do. This is a skill I've honed almost to an art with certain people in my life, although I don't use it quite as much anymore).
Side Note: My sister acted "tough" and would yell at my mom if things weren't going her way. This only made my mom want to punish her and force her to do exactly those things. I on the other hand would listen and give my opinions, especially if I knew that they would find favor with the listener. If I was kind to her, she would be kind to me and let stop going to boy scouts and skip school whenever I wanted. But I wouldn't skip school to go smoke or anything like that. I would usually end up spending those days listening to my mom sadly reminisce about the divorce, which are some of my most vivid memories. Probably because my dad never mentions the divorce. He never even talks about my mom as if he ever loved her, or as if they were ever together.
Side side Note: I even recently asked him to tell me about meeting my mom. He told me he couldn't remember exactly when that was. He got that far-away, misty look in his eyes and barked a laugh. I waited for something more. How he forget something like that? That seems so important to me, when they first met. In every movie, even the fucked up ones, the two people can Always remember when they met, even if it's the only thing that they remember. I know that they met probably about thirty years ago, but that doesn't matter. He should remember. But he just said he didn't. Then he sat down and looked at me. He told me that it was weird because she had been dating his older brother Del, and that's how he knew her. Then they broke up but she continued to hang out all the time until one day she put her hand in his lap and grab his hand while they were driving somewhere with some other people. That was when he realized that she liked him. Then they got married. He told me that she was looking for a father and he wasn't able to be one for her, since he was still a kid. No feelings at all. It was all her. She liked him. She made the first move. She needed something.
Then he looked at me again and laughed. I looked him in his eyes and realized that he wasn't actually looking at me. He was somewhere else altogether at that moment and wherever it was, it was genuinely funny. Like realizing that the worst moment of your life was really nothing more than a gigantic and deeply disturbing joke. A joke this entire time; and you're just now starting to understand it. I didn't know what to do so I started laughing too.
Maybe the angst is over the past. Maybe I'm still trying to get over things that are perfectly normal. Maybe all my yearning and frustration still exist. I know that when I was seventeen, for a brief time everything in the world stood still and I was one with god, time, and love. There was nothing I couldn't understand or overcome. Well all moments of clarification pass. Reality sets in and the cycle begins again. And when we're at the bottom of the cycle we think we'll never make it to the top, and when we're at the top we're so sure it will last forever, even when we know that it won't. I haven't finished this up but for tonight I think that I'm done.
Physical and spiritual are equivalent to me right now. Transcendence is momentary and fleeting. That doesn't mean that it is meaningless to search for it. Just don't make it your life's pursuit. Instead focus on thinking and doing for yourself. I think by doing for ourselves, we're able to see more clearly what needs to be done for others so that they can also do for themselves. Charity should not be lifelong, only until the person in need of charity is able to start pursuing the idea of themselves.
Goodmorning.
I had this uneasy feeling all day, which reminded me strongly of how I felt from the time I was about twelve until seventeen, for at least a majority of the time. It the feeling of being so confused, that the only plausible thing to do was to grow older and wait for time to show me out of my confusion. Not that it would be a magical and painless transition, but more that time would give me the cognitive abilities necessary to help drag myself out of this deep confusion. Although it wasn't exactly confusion. It was also frustration, and quite a bit of yearning. Sometimes I would be so bursting with this pent up yearning for an unrealized ideal that I would fantasize about jumping off buildings, just to release all the caged energy that felt physically trapped within the coils and springs of my heart. The frustration came from my continual inability to actualize whatever it was that I was yearning for. I wasn't even able to properly identify where these intensely felt emotions came from or why altogether, although I knew it had to do somewhat with several different things.
Maybe it was angst. Angst for love which I knew I had never had and therefore could not possibly understand. Angst for achievement, which I knew was the one expectation that I could never really exceed for anyone other than myself. And even then I never really lived up to the expectations I held for myself. Never the A student, nor the first one picked for anything. Always well liked, just never able to properly achieve what others had set for me to do. Never able to achieve what I used to think I wanted to do.
Maybe it was angst towards god. I never once confessed a single sin to my bishop. Never in my life that I can remember. It might have happened once when I was a child but not since puberty that I can remember. I told him that I had never even heard of masturbation, or that I tried it once and didn't like it. (hahahahaha).
I would get so nervous before meeting with him, and I would turn red and sweat and shake, but I never said a word. I told him that my language was perfect (hahahahaha). I never cussed. And since I hated being around the kids in our ward, no one could tell him otherwise.
I remember being forced to go on a camp out once as a boyscout (Which was extremely rare since it was difficult for my mom to make me do anything I didn't want to do. This is a skill I've honed almost to an art with certain people in my life, although I don't use it quite as much anymore).
Side Note: My sister acted "tough" and would yell at my mom if things weren't going her way. This only made my mom want to punish her and force her to do exactly those things. I on the other hand would listen and give my opinions, especially if I knew that they would find favor with the listener. If I was kind to her, she would be kind to me and let stop going to boy scouts and skip school whenever I wanted. But I wouldn't skip school to go smoke or anything like that. I would usually end up spending those days listening to my mom sadly reminisce about the divorce, which are some of my most vivid memories. Probably because my dad never mentions the divorce. He never even talks about my mom as if he ever loved her, or as if they were ever together.
Side side Note: I even recently asked him to tell me about meeting my mom. He told me he couldn't remember exactly when that was. He got that far-away, misty look in his eyes and barked a laugh. I waited for something more. How he forget something like that? That seems so important to me, when they first met. In every movie, even the fucked up ones, the two people can Always remember when they met, even if it's the only thing that they remember. I know that they met probably about thirty years ago, but that doesn't matter. He should remember. But he just said he didn't. Then he sat down and looked at me. He told me that it was weird because she had been dating his older brother Del, and that's how he knew her. Then they broke up but she continued to hang out all the time until one day she put her hand in his lap and grab his hand while they were driving somewhere with some other people. That was when he realized that she liked him. Then they got married. He told me that she was looking for a father and he wasn't able to be one for her, since he was still a kid. No feelings at all. It was all her. She liked him. She made the first move. She needed something.
Then he looked at me again and laughed. I looked him in his eyes and realized that he wasn't actually looking at me. He was somewhere else altogether at that moment and wherever it was, it was genuinely funny. Like realizing that the worst moment of your life was really nothing more than a gigantic and deeply disturbing joke. A joke this entire time; and you're just now starting to understand it. I didn't know what to do so I started laughing too.
Maybe the angst is over the past. Maybe I'm still trying to get over things that are perfectly normal. Maybe all my yearning and frustration still exist. I know that when I was seventeen, for a brief time everything in the world stood still and I was one with god, time, and love. There was nothing I couldn't understand or overcome. Well all moments of clarification pass. Reality sets in and the cycle begins again. And when we're at the bottom of the cycle we think we'll never make it to the top, and when we're at the top we're so sure it will last forever, even when we know that it won't. I haven't finished this up but for tonight I think that I'm done.
Physical and spiritual are equivalent to me right now. Transcendence is momentary and fleeting. That doesn't mean that it is meaningless to search for it. Just don't make it your life's pursuit. Instead focus on thinking and doing for yourself. I think by doing for ourselves, we're able to see more clearly what needs to be done for others so that they can also do for themselves. Charity should not be lifelong, only until the person in need of charity is able to start pursuing the idea of themselves.
Goodmorning.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Such a beautiful song
This is called "lazy eye" by the silversun pickups. I saw this video last year when I was home for christmas and deeply depressed about the state of my life. I just remember that it came on at like three in the morning and it was the first thing in days that I had seen that gave me any sort of hope for where I was going in life. That's not to say that it gave me any sort of direction or motivation. It was just a feeling, a feeling that even though i'd been depressed for the last year and a half, that someday it would leave and I would be somehow better off in some unimaginable way for having lived through all of that. Which seems so silly to me now. I know it wasn't all because of a girl, but that had a lot to do with it.
It's almost as if I have just a few select number of abstract ideals that control the definition of my identity which would include (but are not limited to):
The intense and lingering separation from my god;
The the separation from the only girl I have ever loved;
The idea that I'm nowhere close to where I want to be in life;
And the realization that I have no idea where I want to be in life.
I don't know if that makes sense. I'll try to reorganize and clarify it later on. I've just realized that these are some of the main sources of my seemingly never-ending cycle of depression. Which is good, because depression is healthy I think. Maybe we fear depression now because no one wants to be different. We all crave individuality and freedom yet we're all the fucking same. Same nothingness. Same problems. Same fear of standing out. Being free takes courage. I'm not making a case against freedom. I'm just thinking through my writing. I like thinking philosophically, I just wish I could look at things in a more mathematically disconnected way instead of attaching emotions and feelings to my philosophical inquiries. Hmmm.
Personality = Fate.
If I live in accordance with myself, and my instincts, am I really free? Or am I instead a slave to my own genetic and environmental make-up? So is freedom an abstract ideal we use to feel superior to ourselves, or is life less fatalistic than that? Of course you can choose to go against yourself, but that seems to lead to being unsatisfied and unhappy. So is it really even a choice?
Would you rather be a content pig or a miserable man? hahahahahahahahahaha
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Everything right now is spinning as if I am a part of a dream, a dream which is on the verge of a nightmare; and although it's on the verge of a nightmare, it isn't a nightmare yet; so I continue to dream, I continue to grow more anxious and depressed, and I continue to lose myself in a maze of hyperreality.
San Francisco was extremely fun. I haven't met that many new people in a while. It reminded me of ninth grade, when I first realized that people liked me. I had put myself in a box throughout middle school, which I didn't think was escapable. I didn't think I was funny, attractive, nor particularly original. I of course defined originality as artistic. What I now realize is that I was original in the sense that I was completely different from everyone else that I was ever friends with in middle school. I wandered from group to group, never really identifying with anyone. I talked to absolutely no one about anything I found significant and I ended up adopting a personality in order to be acceptable to everyone around me. I adopted a false confidence through being offensive. I pretended not to care, which of course made me instant friends with all the "cool" kids at school. They thought I was something that I never really cared to be, and that's what they loved me for. Everything started to blend and blur. I remember waking up one morning near the end of seventh grade only to realize that I couldn't remember the last few months of my life.
I still think about that sometimes to this day, although I get uncomfortable every time I do. I didn't know of anyone else who had actually lost track of their own life/identity for that kind of time. I also wonder if losing track was all in my mind the same way deja vu is just your brain temporarily thinking that it has seen something before the moment it's actually happening. Maybe the memory resonates so strongly because it's all a figment of my overactive and highly dramatized mind.
I finally found myself in ninth grade. Or at least a part of myself that only comes out rarely now. It's the part of me that likes to be social. The part of me that likes to be liked, and loved to be loved. I like knowing people and being known. The only problem is that too much exposure leaves me tired and depressed. Especially if there is hyper exposure followed by nothing. While in San Francisco I met alot of really cool people and talked to lot's of pretty girls, who all seemed genuinely interested in me and what I said. We all became close in just a few days and now we're all separated and it's back to the same Boise routine.
I didn't feel like myself the whole time. It was me but I hadn't felt that was in so long. I was taken back to ninth grade and the discovery of laughter and the ability to make people feel at ease.
I can't figure out where I want to take this yet. I haven't slept in days.
I do know that I take everything way too personally. I mean fuck, I met more people this weekend than it seems I've met in a year, and I had an amazing time, but it doesn't feel like it was enough. I didn't meet everyone. Not everyone loved me. I had more girls hanging out with me than I've even seen in a year and I'm not satisfied in the ways that I thought I would be. I think in the back of my mind I was putting myself out there too much, or at least more than I have in a really long time, so every time people didn't want to hang out, or a girl I really liked didn't seemed to reciprocate, I took it so personally. It was like they were rejecting me as a person just because they didn't seem to find me as attractive as I found them. Which is ridiculous because it was only over the course of a few days. Who knows what they really thought. FUCK I don't know why I'm so upset right now but I can't stand it. I think I just need sleep.
I also realized today that I haven't cried since I was eleven. I've even tried to cry a few times in the last few years, but it seems that I've forgotten how. Maybe that's what keeps me imbalanced and either extremely happy or highly depressed. Maybe I'm just overly normal and I can't stand that. Maybe I'm just so mediocre that I need to point out something as silly as not being able to cry as a sign that I must be different from others. Maybe I'm over thinking this. I don't know Jodi. I want to believe in humanity. I want to believe in romance; to believe in love lasting longer two years. I want to believe that potential exists and that it can be actualized.
I'm slipping off.
San Francisco was extremely fun. I haven't met that many new people in a while. It reminded me of ninth grade, when I first realized that people liked me. I had put myself in a box throughout middle school, which I didn't think was escapable. I didn't think I was funny, attractive, nor particularly original. I of course defined originality as artistic. What I now realize is that I was original in the sense that I was completely different from everyone else that I was ever friends with in middle school. I wandered from group to group, never really identifying with anyone. I talked to absolutely no one about anything I found significant and I ended up adopting a personality in order to be acceptable to everyone around me. I adopted a false confidence through being offensive. I pretended not to care, which of course made me instant friends with all the "cool" kids at school. They thought I was something that I never really cared to be, and that's what they loved me for. Everything started to blend and blur. I remember waking up one morning near the end of seventh grade only to realize that I couldn't remember the last few months of my life.
I still think about that sometimes to this day, although I get uncomfortable every time I do. I didn't know of anyone else who had actually lost track of their own life/identity for that kind of time. I also wonder if losing track was all in my mind the same way deja vu is just your brain temporarily thinking that it has seen something before the moment it's actually happening. Maybe the memory resonates so strongly because it's all a figment of my overactive and highly dramatized mind.
I finally found myself in ninth grade. Or at least a part of myself that only comes out rarely now. It's the part of me that likes to be social. The part of me that likes to be liked, and loved to be loved. I like knowing people and being known. The only problem is that too much exposure leaves me tired and depressed. Especially if there is hyper exposure followed by nothing. While in San Francisco I met alot of really cool people and talked to lot's of pretty girls, who all seemed genuinely interested in me and what I said. We all became close in just a few days and now we're all separated and it's back to the same Boise routine.
I didn't feel like myself the whole time. It was me but I hadn't felt that was in so long. I was taken back to ninth grade and the discovery of laughter and the ability to make people feel at ease.
I can't figure out where I want to take this yet. I haven't slept in days.
I do know that I take everything way too personally. I mean fuck, I met more people this weekend than it seems I've met in a year, and I had an amazing time, but it doesn't feel like it was enough. I didn't meet everyone. Not everyone loved me. I had more girls hanging out with me than I've even seen in a year and I'm not satisfied in the ways that I thought I would be. I think in the back of my mind I was putting myself out there too much, or at least more than I have in a really long time, so every time people didn't want to hang out, or a girl I really liked didn't seemed to reciprocate, I took it so personally. It was like they were rejecting me as a person just because they didn't seem to find me as attractive as I found them. Which is ridiculous because it was only over the course of a few days. Who knows what they really thought. FUCK I don't know why I'm so upset right now but I can't stand it. I think I just need sleep.
I also realized today that I haven't cried since I was eleven. I've even tried to cry a few times in the last few years, but it seems that I've forgotten how. Maybe that's what keeps me imbalanced and either extremely happy or highly depressed. Maybe I'm just overly normal and I can't stand that. Maybe I'm just so mediocre that I need to point out something as silly as not being able to cry as a sign that I must be different from others. Maybe I'm over thinking this. I don't know Jodi. I want to believe in humanity. I want to believe in romance; to believe in love lasting longer two years. I want to believe that potential exists and that it can be actualized.
I'm slipping off.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Excerpt
Something is moving next to me. No wait, it’s inside of me. Where am I? I was just watching myself run through the freshly clipped grass with the sun on my back. I could feel the sun. I give an involuntary shudder. I haven’t actually felt the sun on me in quite some time. Nor can I watch myself. This is a dream. Again. I’m starting to fear these new dreams more than the endless years of the dark nights. No. No matter what happens; it can never be worse than that. Pain is better than nothing.
Are you really so certain of that anymore? A sly voice asks me as I lay there wrestling out of my sleep. It’s that same feeling took us here in the first place. Do you remember that? I told the voice to shut up, I didn’t have time to reflect right now. Tonight was big. Tonight was going to be important. Tonight is the night that I move.
I have been living in the same place for over six years now. Everyday almost the same; sleep all day and work all night. I turned in my two weeks notice fourteen days ago and now I’m ready to leave. I’m not sure where yet though. That’s new. I usually plan months if not years ahead of these events. It’s not that it takes that long or requires that much attention. I’m just bored and always crave the moment when I get to leave and start somewhere new. Somewhere that will excite me for a few years and turn to shit just like everywhere else. Even the move itself is becoming mundane or worse; a necessity. It feels too frequent now, with less and less reward involved.
It no longer seemed strange to me that I still dream, even though I hadn’t really slept in hundreds of years. No, the dreaming was no longer strange to me; it was the dreams.
Are you really so certain of that anymore? A sly voice asks me as I lay there wrestling out of my sleep. It’s that same feeling took us here in the first place. Do you remember that? I told the voice to shut up, I didn’t have time to reflect right now. Tonight was big. Tonight was going to be important. Tonight is the night that I move.
I have been living in the same place for over six years now. Everyday almost the same; sleep all day and work all night. I turned in my two weeks notice fourteen days ago and now I’m ready to leave. I’m not sure where yet though. That’s new. I usually plan months if not years ahead of these events. It’s not that it takes that long or requires that much attention. I’m just bored and always crave the moment when I get to leave and start somewhere new. Somewhere that will excite me for a few years and turn to shit just like everywhere else. Even the move itself is becoming mundane or worse; a necessity. It feels too frequent now, with less and less reward involved.
It no longer seemed strange to me that I still dream, even though I hadn’t really slept in hundreds of years. No, the dreaming was no longer strange to me; it was the dreams.
Frustrated or Excited. Probably Just Tired.
I really feel the need to write right now but I am unsure about what I need to write about. Whenever I have this feeling I usually find myself wanting to write down the millions of story ideas that I have throughout the day, except that whenever I actually sit down to write, not a single idea comes forward.
I am so terrible about procrastination. I leave thursday morning for San Francisco and here I sit not having gotten anything done I needed to in preparation for it. So now I've pushed everything back until tomorrow. Gahhhhh. This type of thing stresses me out but at the same time I feel more than a hint of excitement whenever I push things to the last minute like this. I want to see how deep I can get before I can no longer pull myself safely out.
I started talking with Wayne again today after a few weeks of silence, and I realized that I need to have several different groups of people that I associate with at any given time. Whenever I spent my time exclusively with just one person or one group, my ideas and feelings start to become somewhat stagnant. I need to have several individuals and groups who are vastly different in my world. I also need to keep them all separated for the most part. This is probably why it was always so hard for me to bring girls around my friends. These were two separate worlds that needed to be kept separate. This of course pissed both my girlfriends and my friends off. They couldn't understand why I couldn't just bring the two spheres together like normal people (I'm assuming it's normal, since they all acted like it was). This is also why I want to live separately from my wife, for at least a sizable chunk of the time. I don't want to get bored and I don't want to her to get bored. I know it sounds selfish. That's because it is somewhat, but I also think it's highly rational. Maybe not.
I am so terrible about procrastination. I leave thursday morning for San Francisco and here I sit not having gotten anything done I needed to in preparation for it. So now I've pushed everything back until tomorrow. Gahhhhh. This type of thing stresses me out but at the same time I feel more than a hint of excitement whenever I push things to the last minute like this. I want to see how deep I can get before I can no longer pull myself safely out.
I started talking with Wayne again today after a few weeks of silence, and I realized that I need to have several different groups of people that I associate with at any given time. Whenever I spent my time exclusively with just one person or one group, my ideas and feelings start to become somewhat stagnant. I need to have several individuals and groups who are vastly different in my world. I also need to keep them all separated for the most part. This is probably why it was always so hard for me to bring girls around my friends. These were two separate worlds that needed to be kept separate. This of course pissed both my girlfriends and my friends off. They couldn't understand why I couldn't just bring the two spheres together like normal people (I'm assuming it's normal, since they all acted like it was). This is also why I want to live separately from my wife, for at least a sizable chunk of the time. I don't want to get bored and I don't want to her to get bored. I know it sounds selfish. That's because it is somewhat, but I also think it's highly rational. Maybe not.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Dreams (Updated and Expanded)
I had a pretty intense post-apocalyptic style dream last night I thought I'd share with you all before class.
The dream started out (if I can remember correctly) at my mom's house in Las Vegas, I must have been visiting or something, I'm not really sure. Anyways: I had just bought a number of books (nine if I can remember) and they were all in the same series. So I opened up the first book.
The next thing I knew I was talking to an old man who seemed completely familiar. He was even talking to me as if we were old friends. My brain adjusted and I knew who this guy was, but I'm not sure anymore now that I'm awake. He told me that he had learned a new trick he wanted me to work on. The trick was to fall on your face, but to stop yourself an inch from the ground with your mind and to bounce back onto your feet. He had mastered it completely and was waiting to watch me try. It was one of the most important things he'd ever learned he claimed, and since I was his favorite, I should also know it. Right then someone came into the house and told us that the disease was spreading and that everyone was needed outside. Except for me and my cousin Jessica. We were supposed to hide in the secret fallout shelter located in the center of the house until they told us we could come back out.
Now what I can remember from the dream is that people were being infected by this unknown disease and they would begin to go mad and fall apart. They still retained some intelligence but it was mostly about how to infect other people (which those of us who weren't infected still didn't understand. We just assumed that it was through touch; if one of them touched you, you were going to become one of them). The nice thing was that once you were infected, you didn't live forever like a zombie, in fact you died on average in about seven days since the infected couldn't eat anything during this period. The problem was that however it spread, it spread fast. It was like a giant tidal wave that you couldn't outrun, you just had to ride it out.
So the story is that the disease was spreading and everyone gets infected at our house and Jessica and I are left on the run. I take a gun that I find in the house (the infected can be shot) and we take off. After this I kind of shake off that dream to find myself still in my mom's house. I was reading a book the whole time, except that the book became real when I read it. But i was done with the first one so I went to the second.
So now I was back in the story and we had found a safe haven of sorts at an old highschool. The only problem was that no body trusted each other. There were a lot of people there, but there was definitely several different factions, and the largest was the one in charge. They put themselves in charge of security and had roped off several sections of the school for some unknown reason.
I was sick of being bossed around and so I finally told them that I had special permission to visit the roped off areas. I was of course lying, But I knew just that the right amount of lies speckled with truth would do the trick, and I was right. They let me upstairs. I don't remember finding anything special up there, they just roped it off because they didn't want people wandering around where they couldn't keep an eye on them. Dissension was ripping this place apart alright. It was time to leave.
I heard the alarms go off and I knew either fights were breaking out or the infected had somehow broken in. Or both. Either way I had to get out of their. I grabbed Jessica and my gun and we sped out, pursued quickly by a batch of infected.
-I actually woke up at this point to pee. I went back to sleep and found myself back at my Mom's.-
I was in my mom's house and opening up the next book. My little brother was talking to me but I was obsessed with find out what happens. I look at the first page. It has a picture which is moving towards me. Or I'm moving towards it.
I practicing the trick of falling on my face and bouncing back up. I couldn't get it. I just kept falling on my face, no matter how much I concentrated. I figured being aware was what was going to save me, but no matter what I just kept falling on my face.
I came back into my mom's house and I really had to go to the bathroom. I kept looking for it but the only one I could find was in the front room in front of the windows which wouldn't close.
-I woke up at this point for another pee break. I went back to sleep and went back for the last time to my Mom's house in Las Vegas.-
I was now convincing my mom to let my little brother and sister watch the movie of the stories I was reading. You see the books I was reading were actually graphic novels that turned into a movie when I started reading them. I wanted my little siblings to watch the movie since they were bored and that was the only thing I could think of to entertain them. My mom protested. She said my life was rated R and she didn't allow the little kids to watch R movies. I conceded and realized that part of the movie was going without me, and it was at the end of the book. I was seeing the ending the books and the movie in front of me. I wanted it to stop but I couldn't tear myself away. The ending involved me going to space in order to escape the disease but somehow people start getting infected in my ship (which is huge and holds hundreds of people).
I finally break away and start back at my own place.
I now remember where to go. I ditched my gun and found a shotgun in the hands of a dead person lying on a roof. He was shooting at infected and eventually died of hunger on his roof, not being able to get down for fear of becoming infected. So I grabbed his shotgun and bullets and headed with Jessica to the safe place I had just remembered about.
We got there almost undetected when suddenly infected starting rushing at us from everywhere at once. These were all moving somewhat slow so I knew they were either newly infected or near death. When someone gets infected they have seven days to live. The first few hours are slow, because the infection still hasn't taken complete hold yet, but after about two hours they become increasingly violent until the seventh day, when they become docile and wait for death. These were all moving slow but some were starting to speed up. They must be newly infected. One got too close and I blew it apart with my gun. That slowed everyone else down considerably, which was good. It told me they still had a bit of intelligence left. Enough to know I could kill them if they came too close. Too stupid to know that they could easily overwhelm me if they worked together.
So we ran to our haven, trying to shake off the infected, so they wouldn't discover our spot. The problem was that more and more kept showing up. I shot whoever came close but they were getting bolder. And faster. I had to concentrate on running and saving my ammunition.
Almost there.
We could see it.
We were surrounded.
I shot a whole through the circle and we kept running, avoiding any physical contact. Finally we were at the front gates. I gave Jessica the code and she set to work opening up the thick metal doors while I kept the Infected off of us. I blew a few more away but I was starting to run low on ammo and more just kept coming. Finally one stepped forward and as I aimed my gun, I noticed that it was an a girl that I knew. A girl I was once in love with. Completely fictional but I loved her none the less. She looked infected and was coming close but I didn't have the heart to shoot her. I let her come right up to me and she walked past me to the gate. She punched in the key code and we all went inside. I shut the doors just as a massive amount of Infected tried to push their way in. I spent the last of my bullets keeping them all out and suddenly it was over. The door was shut. I passed out.
I came to a little later to find my cousin playing video games and eating. I knew we were safe but not much else. I set about to check on all the online security features; to make sure they were all still functional. The computer wouldn't let me log in and I started to get a little creeped out. How long could we last in here? Seven days? Would new, fresh infected just keep showing up? Was this place really as safe as I thought or was it a perfect cage; a trap.
"Relax," my cousin said. She smiled. "Things will work out."
I walked away and heard a noise. That's when I remembered that there was a security station on the premise where I could log in to the system. I rushed there and found my first big surprise. People were already in there monitoring and fixing things. The person logged into the computer and directing people was none other than the girl I almost shot. She told me that she was just sick, and not infected, but somehow the infected thought she was one of them and so she was able to walk around them unmolested.
That was all that I can remember from my dream.
Good night. Time for more.
The dream started out (if I can remember correctly) at my mom's house in Las Vegas, I must have been visiting or something, I'm not really sure. Anyways: I had just bought a number of books (nine if I can remember) and they were all in the same series. So I opened up the first book.
The next thing I knew I was talking to an old man who seemed completely familiar. He was even talking to me as if we were old friends. My brain adjusted and I knew who this guy was, but I'm not sure anymore now that I'm awake. He told me that he had learned a new trick he wanted me to work on. The trick was to fall on your face, but to stop yourself an inch from the ground with your mind and to bounce back onto your feet. He had mastered it completely and was waiting to watch me try. It was one of the most important things he'd ever learned he claimed, and since I was his favorite, I should also know it. Right then someone came into the house and told us that the disease was spreading and that everyone was needed outside. Except for me and my cousin Jessica. We were supposed to hide in the secret fallout shelter located in the center of the house until they told us we could come back out.
Now what I can remember from the dream is that people were being infected by this unknown disease and they would begin to go mad and fall apart. They still retained some intelligence but it was mostly about how to infect other people (which those of us who weren't infected still didn't understand. We just assumed that it was through touch; if one of them touched you, you were going to become one of them). The nice thing was that once you were infected, you didn't live forever like a zombie, in fact you died on average in about seven days since the infected couldn't eat anything during this period. The problem was that however it spread, it spread fast. It was like a giant tidal wave that you couldn't outrun, you just had to ride it out.
So the story is that the disease was spreading and everyone gets infected at our house and Jessica and I are left on the run. I take a gun that I find in the house (the infected can be shot) and we take off. After this I kind of shake off that dream to find myself still in my mom's house. I was reading a book the whole time, except that the book became real when I read it. But i was done with the first one so I went to the second.
So now I was back in the story and we had found a safe haven of sorts at an old highschool. The only problem was that no body trusted each other. There were a lot of people there, but there was definitely several different factions, and the largest was the one in charge. They put themselves in charge of security and had roped off several sections of the school for some unknown reason.
I was sick of being bossed around and so I finally told them that I had special permission to visit the roped off areas. I was of course lying, But I knew just that the right amount of lies speckled with truth would do the trick, and I was right. They let me upstairs. I don't remember finding anything special up there, they just roped it off because they didn't want people wandering around where they couldn't keep an eye on them. Dissension was ripping this place apart alright. It was time to leave.
I heard the alarms go off and I knew either fights were breaking out or the infected had somehow broken in. Or both. Either way I had to get out of their. I grabbed Jessica and my gun and we sped out, pursued quickly by a batch of infected.
-I actually woke up at this point to pee. I went back to sleep and found myself back at my Mom's.-
I was in my mom's house and opening up the next book. My little brother was talking to me but I was obsessed with find out what happens. I look at the first page. It has a picture which is moving towards me. Or I'm moving towards it.
I practicing the trick of falling on my face and bouncing back up. I couldn't get it. I just kept falling on my face, no matter how much I concentrated. I figured being aware was what was going to save me, but no matter what I just kept falling on my face.
I came back into my mom's house and I really had to go to the bathroom. I kept looking for it but the only one I could find was in the front room in front of the windows which wouldn't close.
-I woke up at this point for another pee break. I went back to sleep and went back for the last time to my Mom's house in Las Vegas.-
I was now convincing my mom to let my little brother and sister watch the movie of the stories I was reading. You see the books I was reading were actually graphic novels that turned into a movie when I started reading them. I wanted my little siblings to watch the movie since they were bored and that was the only thing I could think of to entertain them. My mom protested. She said my life was rated R and she didn't allow the little kids to watch R movies. I conceded and realized that part of the movie was going without me, and it was at the end of the book. I was seeing the ending the books and the movie in front of me. I wanted it to stop but I couldn't tear myself away. The ending involved me going to space in order to escape the disease but somehow people start getting infected in my ship (which is huge and holds hundreds of people).
I finally break away and start back at my own place.
I now remember where to go. I ditched my gun and found a shotgun in the hands of a dead person lying on a roof. He was shooting at infected and eventually died of hunger on his roof, not being able to get down for fear of becoming infected. So I grabbed his shotgun and bullets and headed with Jessica to the safe place I had just remembered about.
We got there almost undetected when suddenly infected starting rushing at us from everywhere at once. These were all moving somewhat slow so I knew they were either newly infected or near death. When someone gets infected they have seven days to live. The first few hours are slow, because the infection still hasn't taken complete hold yet, but after about two hours they become increasingly violent until the seventh day, when they become docile and wait for death. These were all moving slow but some were starting to speed up. They must be newly infected. One got too close and I blew it apart with my gun. That slowed everyone else down considerably, which was good. It told me they still had a bit of intelligence left. Enough to know I could kill them if they came too close. Too stupid to know that they could easily overwhelm me if they worked together.
So we ran to our haven, trying to shake off the infected, so they wouldn't discover our spot. The problem was that more and more kept showing up. I shot whoever came close but they were getting bolder. And faster. I had to concentrate on running and saving my ammunition.
Almost there.
We could see it.
We were surrounded.
I shot a whole through the circle and we kept running, avoiding any physical contact. Finally we were at the front gates. I gave Jessica the code and she set to work opening up the thick metal doors while I kept the Infected off of us. I blew a few more away but I was starting to run low on ammo and more just kept coming. Finally one stepped forward and as I aimed my gun, I noticed that it was an a girl that I knew. A girl I was once in love with. Completely fictional but I loved her none the less. She looked infected and was coming close but I didn't have the heart to shoot her. I let her come right up to me and she walked past me to the gate. She punched in the key code and we all went inside. I shut the doors just as a massive amount of Infected tried to push their way in. I spent the last of my bullets keeping them all out and suddenly it was over. The door was shut. I passed out.
I came to a little later to find my cousin playing video games and eating. I knew we were safe but not much else. I set about to check on all the online security features; to make sure they were all still functional. The computer wouldn't let me log in and I started to get a little creeped out. How long could we last in here? Seven days? Would new, fresh infected just keep showing up? Was this place really as safe as I thought or was it a perfect cage; a trap.
"Relax," my cousin said. She smiled. "Things will work out."
I walked away and heard a noise. That's when I remembered that there was a security station on the premise where I could log in to the system. I rushed there and found my first big surprise. People were already in there monitoring and fixing things. The person logged into the computer and directing people was none other than the girl I almost shot. She told me that she was just sick, and not infected, but somehow the infected thought she was one of them and so she was able to walk around them unmolested.
That was all that I can remember from my dream.
Good night. Time for more.
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