SORRY. Sorry I’ve abandoned you Mr. blog. Sorry I haven’t been smearing my disturbing nightmares s all over your cyber-pages. I’ve had so many dreams that you would find mildly interesting; Like the one about me watching a video tape of my life in high school, while two HUGE mallards swam out of the screen towards me… Or the one about me sitting at an ice cream shop with Bill Clinton, and crying like a two-year-old and screaming, and smashing my birthday cake…
You’d think I would get more bloggy stuff done, whilst the snow was upon us. Nope. I’m just not a very consistent doer of anything… not type A. I’ll sit at my piano for 6 straight hours and practice- in the middle of the night- rather than setting a strict hour-and-day thing. No matter how hard I try, I just don’t work that way. I won’t remember your birthday… so you’ll just have to accept that.
I will say, I’m driven, and I do get a lot done, I guess I’m just a slave to inspiration, not schedules. I Think most artsy people are like that, that’s the real reason they are starving… they forget to eat.
Okay, I guess my therapy page can be my official blog. So I am starting over. I guess that’s what therapy is all about. I will start by posting a dream I already wrote down, but more is coming.
Gotta Start Somewhere…
I’m new to this whole blogging thing, so I don’t know what to write about. My Dreams; Very disturbing, and emotionally stirring…to me. For some reason, I can never really get that across when I’m desperately spewing out the seemingly relevant details to the nearest victim. Still, i feel the need to get them off my chest.
My september resolution will be this: No telling my dreams to loved ones. I will write them in this Therapy section of my website, starting today. Just know I’m censoring 90% of the disturbing, gory, and embarrassing parts.
Last night, I had a Dream that I was at a vacation house with my family. I was very excited about eating a chocolate chunked brownie, and a slice of apple pie. as I was searching through the refrigerator for some whipped cream, my mom had some how placed several mops and brooms in my bucket of dessert, along with some dirty water. apparently, this was an on-going problem, because after chewing my mom out for ruining my dessert, I banned her from ever coming on vacation with us again.
It was suddenly five years later, and I was driving to a vacation house with my family, minus my mother, of course. My brother Chad and his wife, had a forth child, who was now a three-year-old transgender, with short blonde hair, and an adorable face. his/her name was olivia or something. Our dear friend, Reade, was driving, and clearly did not get the concept of a stop sign, or a crossing guard, because he slowly ran into several school children. When I tried to enlighten him, he got extremely offended. So when we arrived at the vacation house, I was giving a very large iguana a piggy-back ride. My Brother encouraged his transgender baby to take a bite out of the iguana’s tail. I felt guilty about letting that happen. I also felt guilty about excommunicating my mother from all family vacations.
I’m going to stop, as I am sure the one person who made it this far is gnawing his own leg off in, in boredom. but this is only the beginning. I’m starting to think that my dreams have less to do with psychological issues, and more with mass quantities of hard drugs i do…i mean, of food i consume late at night…