Mood: Eh ... Music: hum of and clothes tumbling in dryer Right ... a real dream entry this time. Go figure. This dream was extremely mild compared to others that I've been having for the past three years. Basically, what I remember is as follows: I have dreams where I'm me, but I don't look like me - it's like my mind is placed in another person's body - but it's always the same person - or rather, it had been until about two or three weeks ago. (Lindsay, I'm the kid again ... just so you know.) I mean, now my mind is in this body of a 12-year-old boy that kind of looks like me, yet kind of looks different. Anywho, I'm this kid and I'm in this rather extravagant-looking school - at least I think so. Boarding school because people live there, I can tell. And it's night time - this is significant, since a majority of the dreams I can recall take place in daylight. I remember a rather pretty golden chandelier but mainly this room in the ... upper level, I think it was - yes, upper level of the school. It was just a normal room, maybe about the size of a classroom, carpeted, cream walls, flourescent lights (and I HATE flourescent lights; they make me feel cold), there's many chairs set up - just chairs, nothing special about the chairs except that they're just set up and whatnot, all facing the right of the room, where this black, upright piano is. This room was where I went to in order to get away from people - well, in my dream anyway; it was my "sanctuary." What's so important about this room? I have no idea. I don't even know why I'd make a sanctuary out of a place with flourescent lights. Moving on ... This guy arrives - and it appears to be someone I know, but haven't seen in a long time - but I have to go off to do something, I don't remember what, so I don't get to say "hi" or whatever. His name is Wesley, though. And then, this guy's evil, mean father shows up - I mean, this dad is wretched - and I go off to try to find Wesley that his father is there, and that he plans on killing him, you know, try to warn Wes and all ... but I can't find him, so I'm frantic, and scared that maybe his father found him already - and for some reason I go back to my sanctuary - and there's people in there, so I run in and immediately ask everyone if any of them had seen Wesley - a couple of people look at me, but no one says anything ... but there's someone playing the piano. And I realize that I've just disrupted some sort of recital or whatever ... so I run out again, trying to find Wesley. And now this big, strong police officer walks up to me and he asks me what's wrong, and I tell him that I need to find Wesley because his father's here for him and plans on killing him. So the officer takes me outside to look for Wesley, and we go looking in this 1 foot in diameter drainage hole in this ditch. And I'm saying "I'd never fit in there." And yet, the officer goes in to this large, cave-like opening just a few feet away, and then starts talking to me from behind it, saying that Wesley's not in there and asks me to pull him out. (Okay, reality check, after I woke up, I was like "Why didn't he just go back out the way he came? Ever notice how, when you dream, you have instances where you come across some sort of problem that would be so INCREASINGLY easy to fix in real life, but in your dream, it seems so incredibly fucking HARD? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.) So, I'm this weak little 12-year-old kid, I can't do anything. And then this guy just walks up, grabs the officer's arm, and pulls him out like it was nothing. And the officer's like "Damn, kid, you have strong arms" and then he realizes that it's not me - but his BOYFRIEND that pulled him out. Heh. So I go off again, being as how the officer is otherwise occupied, and try to find Wesley. I go back inside, and I see his father - a very disgruntled, 50-ish man wielding an axe and stalking through the halls like a horror-film reject - so I run off to the auditorium ... which looks like it never gets used, and there I find Wesley, and I'm yelling at him "you have to get out! you're father's going to kill you!" And Wesley looks at me and just says "who are you?" And then he's gone. And I'm still frantic. And yyyyyyyyyyyeah. Now, I've drifted off to the bookstore - and I'm trying to find something, and another old friend - someone I really hadn't thought about in a while - and I'm in this bookstore, looking at books, drinking a cup of coffee - and it's weird, because the owner is Wesley's psycho killer dad. That's what *I* thought. And, you know, I just really liked this book that I was reading - and as it turns out, the pages are actually liquid-proof pockets - so you can store things like coffee and smoothies and whatnot ... in the PAGES. (I wonder if Starbucks ever thought of that one.) And I accidently spill my coffee on the book, without the psycho dad seeing and I want to clean it up, so I sneak out, and off to the bathroom, to pour the coffee in the book into the toilet. And I run into this guy that I hadn't seen in a while, another father to a friend that I haven't seen in AGES, nor really thought about at all since last summer, much less her dad, you know? And he's like, "I'll fix it for you" and takes the book - and I'm saying "Hey, no, wait! I haven't paid for it yet." And so, he's gone, so I run off to the phone and dial my friend's house to see if her dad's back yet, and the phone rings forever before she picks up, and I'm like "Amy?" and she says "yeah?" And I realize I haven't talked to her in forever, so I just start talking to her and all: "Hey, Amy, how are you?" Amy: "Oh, you just caught me in the tanning bed." Me: "Tanning bed? What do you need a tan for? You look beautiful." Amy: "Going to prom." And I'm thinking ... this woman is almost 21 years old - what the fuck is she going to prom for? And then I woke up. Like I said, this is one of the more mild ... actually, very mild dreams of mine. I'm sure that the explicit stuff will come in later entries - I feel certain of it. Any contemplations or musings on the matter, feel free to tell me. PLEASE. That's why I'm doing this, right? For the feedback. Seems fitting, doesn't it? Sometimes, anyway. Describes my mood often, actually. Now that I'm done with that, I'm off to do more writing and whatnot. I'm tired.