Jul. 12th, 2006

Kirsten

Jul. 12th, 2006 12:13 am
oneirophrenia: (Blue Me)
I woke up this afternoon (which is morning for me) from a dream that left me positively shaken. Was I being hacked up by Cenobites, or trying to run from giant carnivorous gorillas? Nothing like that. I actually enjoy those kinds of dreams, as they give me stuff to write about. This one, though...?

Well, it has definitely given me something to write about. Witness:

I was attending a performance of some sort--musical, I believe--taking place in a rather fancy auditorium that reminded me a great deal of the Byham Theatre, only more contemporary/modernistic in design. It was a rather fancy affair, and as such I was wearing my usual cheap black suit. I'd taken a seat on the aisle so I could stretch my legs out and as I was waiting for the curtain to rise I watched well-dressed people coming and goin...and then spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

Kirsten. (Kirsten Evans, not the one I vaguely know from work. I mean, why the hell would I be dreaming about some dumbass from the newsroom?)

My pulse immediately leaped and I spent the entire performance feeling her presence near the back of the theatre like some kind of vast mass whose alchemical gravity just kept pulling at my thoughts and dragging my heart up into my throat. I hadn't even imagined ever seeing her again, and now...? During intermission, I was standing around in the theatre's bar sipping some bright green and horrifically alcoholic in order to settle my nerves, praying I wouldn't see her again or--dear gods, what if she came up to me and actually spoke to me? After how rudely I cut all ties with her? (Which, believe me, was not an easy thing to do: but it was the simplest thing at the time and I thought it would make my life easier to resume--boy, was I wrong.)

I turned around to leave and, of course, ran right into her. Literally. I swear to the Other Gods it was a primo soap opera moment. I babbled some kind of apology and turned to run but she grabbed my arm and said, "Hey. Hold on a sec. Talk to me."

I don't really recall much of what transpired--just smalltalk, I guess: what're you up to? how's life been? The usual stuff. For whatever reason, all the tension just poured out of me and we ended up sitting down and talking, for hours, it seemed...and I have no idea where this was going, but I woke up suddenly and now, all day, I've just felt...haunted. Which is weird, because 1) I just started reading Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted yesterday ("Guts" is SUCH a great, if incredibly disgusting, story); and 2) I thought I'd convinced myself that all that was in the past.

But I still feel like I've lost...Idaknow, a part of me--not something necessary to everyday life, mind you (like a major organ), but something that I was so glad to discover I had and then...misplaced. Or lost.

*Le sigh*

Nothing I can do about it, I guess. Bridges burnt, and all that.

Sometimes, I truly hate dreaming. Well, not really. Dreaming is wonderful. Waking up is miserable.

There's a Tool lyric, that oddly enough, fits here:

"Why can't we sleep forever? I just want to start this over."

Whoever's DJing at Ceremony this weekend, you'd better damnwell play "Sober".
oneirophrenia: (Hahaha)
Joey Buttafuoco goes to the slam for a year for possessing bullets or something.

There are some people in this world that I regard as the very epitome of useless pieces of shit. They are:

Joey Buttafuoco (the godfather of jagoffs)
Kevin Federline
and
Tom Sizemore.
oneirophrenia: (r0b0t)
And you question the reality of the Acceleration? PSHAW unto you!
oneirophrenia: (Hahaha)
There are motherfuckin' mice on this motherfuckin' plane!

BrainGate!

Jul. 12th, 2006 11:56 pm
oneirophrenia: (r0b0t)
Holy shit, I want one of these NOW.

I'm not a quadriplegic--I'm just lazy.

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