Mood: spiffy Music: "Veris leta facies" - Carmina Burana There's nothing like driving for over an hour listening to the sounds of Carmina Burana - as performed by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Choir, and the Atlanta Boy Choir. Sheer bliss - and with "O Fortuna" blaring from your speakers as you drive down Frederica (Main) Street in Owensboro at 8:30 in the morning, you would think you were in a David Lynch film or something. And I had a loverly breakatafest at Denny's with Margie (the cousin I was supposed to pick up in Greenville). She's grown up a lot since the last time I saw her. She's fucking hilaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarious, too. She'd never, in her life, had a Belgian waffle! What the fuck?! So of course I made her order one. She was like "but what if I don't like it?" And I was like "Do you like waffles?" And she was like "Yeah, I like waffles." And I was like "Get a fucking waffle." And she liked the waffle. And all was well and good. I was glad that I cleaned out my car and whatnot when I did because she had a LOT of luggage. She doesn't know how to pack, apparently. Well, neither do I really. I mean, I can kind of, but ... yeah. I'm not the greatest at it. So Margie's pretty cool. She's also about four inches taller than I am. (Damnit! EVERYONE'S FUCKING TALLER THAN ME!) She's majoring in communication and all that, wants to go into broadcast journalism - which is all well and good. I would have told her that the station was hiring for a newscaster - but she doesn't have a car, and wouldn't be able to make the commute of 45 miles every morning to read the news on the air. Wouldn't want to get her hopes up. If she'd had a car, I wouldn't have had to pick her up ... Why DID I have to go to Greenville to pick her up, anyway? She goes to school in Paducah ... or is it Madisonville? Uhm ... I forget, but why Greenville? You know what? I never bothered to ask. Guess it just didn't matter, you know? At least it was getting me out of the apartment. I was starting to get really, really antisocial. So anyway, instead of coming straight home after I dropped her off, I stayed, helped her get her things to her old room, and chatted until her father got in from work. She still had this ceramic unicorn in her room by the mirror and I walked over to it and was like "aww, you still have this. You're so cuuuuuuuu-" And she interrupted me by yelling "DESIST! don't EVEN go there, girlfriend." And I laughed - because she has the same problem with the word "cute" as I do. Maybe it's hereditary? I don't know. Too bad my height wasn't hereditary. I think of it as revenge for when I arrived to where I was supposed to pick her up - and keep in mind that I haven't seen this girl for a bout a year - and she says "Seth? Is that you? You're still so ... short." Yyyyyyyyeah. Anyway! This is a dream entry. Yes, it is. Don't try to fight it. Many dreams to speak of - well, really just three. Two from last night and one from the nap I just woke up from. First dream: I spoke in this dream. This was the first time I'd spoken in at least three nights. Physically. I don't count the time I went into Rasputin's soul - that was just a projection of myself ... I think. And this is good, because I was starting to get worried that I'd lost my voice or something. Anyway. I don't know how the dream started, but the first thing I can recall is sitting in this small auditorium place, with a bunch of other people, and it's set up like a classroom and yes, you guessed it, fluorescent lights. I don't like them. I'm cold in the dream - even though I'm wearing this long, beige coat. Is this my coat? I don't know. At least it's keeping me from being any colder. I mean, it's like the thermostat is set on 50. So I'm sitting in this chair, writing in a notebook. I'm not taking notes, I just don't want to look at the teacher. I think it's because I know everything that he's saying - and I don't really want to be in that auditorium, I want to keep moving. This man looks older, maybe late 40's, early 50's. He's pudgy, but still taller than me, and he has dark brown hair with a lot of grey in it ... and a mustache to match. He was wearing neutral colors, too. I was sitting next to someone I knew. Randi, from school. She's a pretty young thing, actually. Lovely. Half Kentuckian, half Iranian. I'll talk more about Randi in a later entry, should she come up again, but right now I'm writing about a dream. (I already have the feeling this is going to be a long entry.) She's sitting next to me, wearing light colors - like ... a lighter beige than me - my coat is tan compared to her top. I don't know why I remember this - it seems irrelevant. I'm sitting near the aisle, but I'm still two seats over - but those seats are empty. And the teacher is walking along this aisle doing his lecture, and I'm just writing things down because I already know it. I don't know what I'm writing, but I know I'm writing something - but I can still hear every word he says. He asks this question about "Which is more difficult for a woman's voice, to go higher or lower?" And I answer, without raising my hand, without even having to think; my voice is very quiet, but the man is standing next to me, so it doesn't matter. I say "lower" - all soft but matter-of-factly, without looking up from what I'm writing because I fucking know all of this stuff. And the guy stops, looks at me and says "No, actually, it's harder for a woman to go higher. Maybe if you paid attention, you would have gotten that right." And now I'm a little racked because I know that what I said was the correct answer. And it really hurts me when I say something, and I know that it's correct, but someone tells me that I'm wrong. And I glance at this man, then back at my writing, and I don't say anything - accepting his decision without an argument, with grace you know? But Randi doesn't. And this is just how Randi is in real life, too. She stands up and starts talking loudly to tell this guy off. She says something like "EXCUSE me! Seth knows what the fuck he's talking about. And - HELLO. I'm a woman. And I say it's fucking harder to make my voice lower than it is to make it higher. Guys just have a broader range than women do. You wouldn't fucking understand. Are you TRYING to piss him off? You didn't major in this. You didn't eat, breathe, live this all your life like he has. Don't fucking tell him he's wrong when he's not. He could teach this class better than you could." And the rest of the people in the auditorium/classroom applaud her. She sits down, I turn my eyes to look at her, then I look back at my notebook. She nudges me and says "Come on, Seth. Do your thing." And I look at Randi again, then I turn my head to the teacher guy - and I stare at his beady eyes for a minute, beyond the bifocals. And suddenly, I think I'm in his soul, too. Because I'm not where I was, not in the auditorium anymore. I'm outside in this yard, surrounded by deep snow. I walk on it - not through it, but ON it. And, in all actuality, I honestly think that this is the first time that I ever remember DREAMING of snow. It was weird. And even in my dream, the dream me was stumped and confused. I just kept walking around this large yard that was completely closed off by brick buildings. It's daylight - early morning. The sky is clear, and blue - and I don't see that very often in my dreams - but I can't see the sun because it hasn't risen past the buildings yet. I stop, I turn around, and I look at the man because he's standing behind me. I think what's happening is the same thing that happened with Rasputin. I look at him and I say "What is this? It's different." And I'm still soft-spoken - but I get distracted because I can see my breath in the cold, and I watch it fog as I breathe - as I often do. Then I fist my hands and start to blow on them to keep them warm. The guy says "What's going on here?" And I don't really know, but I say "If I had to guess, I would say that your heart had frozen over." And the guy says "What? Get out." And I look around ... And I see this ... life guard life preserver thing. Instead of it being red or orange, it's white with blue and yellow. And I stare at it, because down the center of it, in big, bold blue letters it reads: C L U E Clue? I take it out of the snow and show it to him, I ask if it means anything to him. And then I wake up. SNOW? SNOW? What was up with that? Second Dream: This was a short one. I only remember maybe 4 minutes of it - maybe because that was all I dreamed before I woke up. It was another choppy night. I still have my beige coat ... and it's a little chilly. It's near dawn, the horizon is pink and red, but the rest of the sky is purple and dark grey - like it's covered by cloud. I'm walking around this three-story brick building - looking for an entrance, but finding them all locked. But then, I don't know if I really want to go in or not. And I finally decide that I have to be somewhere - I have to GO somewhere, away from where I was, and I didn't have time to go inside for whatever it was I had to go in for. I think, though, that I was supposed to go inside to say goodbye to Randi. That's just my guess now. And I round the back of the building, passing a dogwood tree - and there's this figure with long brown hair sitting at a concrete patio table in the grass near the tree, and for a moment, I think it's Randi - but she's still at a bit of a distance, so I don't know ... Until she turns around and starts waving at me. I walk closer as she's talking - and it IS Randi. I tilt my head to the left as I stand next to her and she says "Hey, you. I got you a big cookie from Hardee's." And she hands me a cookie and tells me to sit in the spot opposite from her. And I do, and I start to nibble on the cookie as she starts talking again. Something about "I'd ask what you're doing out here at 4 o'clock in the morning, but that would be stupid because I know already. You weren't thinking of leaving without me, were you?" And then I hear a familiar voice - Jody's voice - say "Looks like someone got a cookie!" (He has a very distinguishable voice.) And he walks over, holding a bag and drink of his own and sits next to Randi. He starts to talk now, too, saying things like "So, where are we going?" Randi says "Not sure. Why don't you ask Seth?" And Jody says "Really? Seth's going?" He looks around, then asks "Where is he?" And then Randi whaps his arm and points at me - sitting right there, across from her. "He's right there," she says. And then Jody looks at me, and his eyes go wide and he just stands up straight and looks down at me like I'm some kind of surprise - like he didn't expect me to be me, you know? And Randi just says "You know what? I don't think he knows where we're going either. Guess we'll have to wait until the others get here." This whole time, I'm just looking back at Jody, who's still staring at me like - I don't know what. I just sort of give him a small wave and take another bite out of my cookie. There's more to the dream, I know there is - but that's all I can remember. That was weird, not being recognized by someone who's known you for three years, then having him flip out when he finds out it IS you. But hey! I got a cookie! Last dream: MATURE AUDIENCES I don't remember how it started, I'll just start from the first I remember. So, it started out as a very calm, relaxing and comforting dream ... I'm in this ... yellow bedroom. Springy-looking. And sunshine is coming through this window at the foot of the bed - but the bed doesn't face the window, it's on the wall to the left of the bed. And I'm sitting on the bed, leaning against someone - who's holding me. It's Red - and I know it's Red, even though I can't see his face. And I can feel - really feel - his arms around my torso, and my hands on his. My eyes keep closing, like I'm trying to fall asleep - but I keep opening them, like I don't want to. And I can feel his cheek against mine, and I can feel the movement of his jaw and neck as he says "Are you asleep yet?" I lean my head back onto his shoulder - which is a "no" in my case, I guess. He starts to kiss my neck - and I can feel this, I can feel his hands start to move. He feels very warm. I like warm. I feel that fluttery sensation in my stomach again - the good butterflies that I can't explain - the shaky breath, too. But then he puts his hand ... down there. And it makes me really uncomfortable - in real life and in dreams - to be touched "down there;" I don't like to be touched down there. (It's weird, I know. And you're probably thinking "must make hell for the sex life" - but you know what? I think that it might also have something to do with the insecurity that I feel when getting very close and intimate with someone. I tend to avoid, you know, the passionately intimate thing. It scares me just a little, I think.) So I suddenly jerk into this tight ball; I grab his hand and I put it to the side. I don't like to be touched there. I can feel him smile as he wraps his arms around me again and starts to rock me slowly from side to side - and this makes my legs slowly sink down again. He kisses my neck again and asks "Don't you trust me?" And I ... oh, I do trust him, but I just don't like to be touched there. So I give him a small nod and he asks "Then why won't you let me touch you?" And he said something about how I didn't have to like it, but I should let him touch me, to prove to him that I trust him. (I can see this - he's not the kind of person who would try to manipulate someone else's mind like that - he was just trying to show me that sometimes we have to do things we don't like - things that we just really hate - for someone else. It's like he's trying to break me out of myself - or something.) He holds me, in place, and his left hand goes over my mouth while the other slides down into my pants - he starts to touch it, kissing me. And I start to jerk, and my breathing gets very weird and ragged. I really don't like being touched there. And I have my eyes closed really, really tight that it starts to make my face hurt. And after a while, I start to feel like I'm crying - though I can't remember if tears are actually coming or not. My legs start to feel strange - even though they're not moving, they start to feel like they're having muscle spasms, twitches all up and down - and some sort of pulse, like it's in tune with my heart. And I want to scream, because it feels so strange, but he has his hand over my mouth and I can't - and I just tell myself to bear it. Over and over I keep telling myself to bear it. And then he stops. And he puts his hands on my waist, and presses another kiss to the back of my neck and says "You really don't like to be touched there, do you?" Really, I don't. I really, really DON'T. And he goes on: "I can't believe you just let me do that. You really do trust me." And he starts to kiss me more. And I like that much, much better. He wraps his arms around me again, starts to rock me again, kissing me, and I start to calm down. I relax again. He rocks me more, kissing me more. And I like that. I wake up. ... Yeah ... just ... end. Blessed be.