Okay, I just remembered a fragment of a dream this evening, which I couldn't fully remember (only the after-feeling): I was somewhere in a building.. there was a long hallway and at first there was nobody there but a few people who were with me.. then, I got something.. don't know why or when or how.. but I could see dead people.. right there.. I passed them by when I walked through the building.. I was sooo scared, I tried not to look at them, because I thought they would know that I could see them, if I looked straight at them.. so I kind of looked away, but it was so hard, they were so scary. And it was FULL of them.. they were everywhere.. I can remember them now as shadows.. some of them were leaning against the wall looking at me o_o I couldn't remember this dream when I woke up (due to the alarm).. but I did think there was something weird when I woke up.. I knew it had to do with my dream, but I couldn't remember and I had to hurry to school and all..
February, 2010 It's been a long night. I'm standing in a creepy, unfinished basement and a group of college student survivalists have been spouting horror movie cliches at every opportunity. "You can't touch the jelly sandwich," the de-facto leader explains. "It keeps all the other food good. Do you understand?" "Perfectly," I say cheerily. I'm stealing from Spongebob Squarepants' logic. "Makes sense." "No," he says, with a long-suffering sigh, "It really, really doesn't." He wanders away, morosely, muttering about crazy people. I briefly consider being a character that this guy is dreaming. I go looking for food. I sit in the kitchen with my mom, even if she is upset about the potted plant sitting in the corner that looks like a tiger lily and is apparently called a "papyrus". At this point, I begin to tell her about the metaphors and symbolism in our current environment. "The jellybean sandwich in the storage room is, apparently, there to keep all the other food from going bad, and the 'papyrus' is there because... you have really bad taste in fonts in real life." "In real life?" "Well, obviously this is a dream." "You think so?" "If it's not, tell me where these objects," I gesture at the flower, "Are located in your real house. Everything keeps shifting here." The woman sitting across the table from me looks down, fighting to keep a grin off her face. She starts to laugh, and then to cackle madly. Shift. I'm standing near the door and she faces me from a few feet away. Her empty eye sockets are stuffed with bandages. "Let me guess," I say, "You're my Other Mother." She doesn't reply, but steps toward me. I wind back my left hand for a punch, but I'm moving so slowly. The woman is moving in real time, and she takes another step, relaxed and confident. The punch doesn't connect. As she reaches for my throat, I desperately dig my fingers into her eye-sockets. There are teeth. Everything is going black, facial features are twisting, and the only thing I can distinguish anymore is pain. Shift. I'm sitting on a deck, petting a stray cat that's wandered into the yard. Can I wake up now? Shift. "That rice is leftover from last night. And it's in front," Oma says helpfully, as I rummage through her fridge. I blink. "Really?" I say, holding the plastic container. "You want me to eat this? Specifically?" I poke at the overabundance of soy sauce with a spoon. "I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"
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