Mood: Sick Music: "Nothing Else Matters" - Metallica This is a dream entry. I'm very ill right now. I'll save you the description, but I just wanted you to know in case this entry doesn't "flow" as well as the others do. First dream: MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY The room I am in is a little dark. Shaded, like curtains have been thrown over the windows - and everything is a little grey. It's shadowed, but I can still see everything. I'm lying on this bed, near the door, and I'm completely nude beneath the sheets. But above all else, I feel empty, drained, tired. Exhausted to the point where I don't care about anything. And I know why - I'd been working myself too hard, pushing myself to the limit. When I go into the souls of people, I'm showing them things, making them realize things about themselves that they've never known before or forgotten - and, in a sense, I am waking these people. they feared me or hated me, and then I do that for them, and they love me. But I also give them a small piece of myself, to stay with them, to guide them. Of course, when I do that to people, it's always one at a time, and afterwards I am given time to rest before I move on to the next one, giving me time to recuperate or perhaps regenerate the part of me, the power, that I left behind - like a starfish re-growing an arm, or a car battery recharging after a jump. But in this dream ... in this dream I've just done that to a bunch of people, a large group of people - all at once. And now, I'm feeling drained, empty; and I feel like I just don't care about anything. Everything is grey and colorless. And there I lay, on my right side, in fetal position, nude beneath the sheets ... just not caring. Red is there, in his coat (though I can't see the color), sitting on the floor at the head of the bed. Just sitting there with me, like he's watching over me. He has a name now - but I'll get to that later. There's a knock on the door, and Red gets up and opens it. there's this - maybe 19-year-old, maybe 20 - guy in a backwards baseball cap standing there. He's looking all angsty. And he ducks his head under Red's arm and says "Can I fuck you in the ass? I wanna fuck you in the ass." And ... I just don't care, so I take to staring at the floor. (I'm sure, that if I cared, I would have yelled at him to leave, but I just felt so empty.) And Red says very angrily "No! Get out!" But Capboy says "But he doesn't care" and slips past Red's arms and starts to undress, and Red looks at me, and he bends down to touch my face and tells me that I don't have to do this - but I just stare ahead, unfeeling. Though, deep inseide myself, I can feel the want to have him stay with me. But I don't do anything. And my silence and uncaring manner upset him. And he says, rather sadly, "I'll be outside" and he touches my hair and leaves, closing the door behind him. I feel capboy crawl under the covers with me. And I feel his dick against me, slippery with lubricant ... and I don't care. I feel him force me onto my stomach, pushing my legs apart ... and I just don't care. I feel him shove his dick up my ass, it hurts ... and I just don't care. I just lie there on my stomach, staring ahead blankly and remaining still - like a rag doll. That's just what I'm doing, being a rag doll. That's all I feel like I am, a rag doll. And I feel a piece of myself leave me - and go into him. I find it difficult to breathe. I close my eyes - and I don't remember what happened after that - I blacked out for a bit, I think. I think I woke up for a second and just fell right back asleep again. I can't be sure. but the next thing I remember is Red sitting next to me, touching my arm. I'm in fetal position again, lying on my right side, just staring. And he's talking to me. Everything's still grey. I don't remember what he's saying until he says something about how I need to rest. I remember him saying "you're doing a good thing, but you have to stop. You'll kill yourself if you don't rest." And there's another knock on the door. Red opens it again and lets the person in. It's a short woman, in her late 40's, early 50's; her skin is a little dark - she looks Jewish, that's the only way I can think of to describe it. She looks friendly, humble, caring - like a grandmother should, or an aunt or ... something. She kneels down at my bedside, and she's holding something. It's this very small candle, about the size of a bottle cap, and it's in this holder that looks like a bunch of tiny blue topaz stones or small seed beads all glued together - it twinkles. It's beautiful, and it's in color. She holds it out to me and starts talking. Her name is Grace. She doesn't tell this to me, but I just know it in the dream. She's saying to me "I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done. For all those times you've saved me. For all those times you've been there. I don't know where I'd be without you. I want you to have this." And she shows me the candle. "Please take it." I think it's a piece of her - and it's like she's trying to give something back. But she then presses it to my chest, right over my heart. And it hurts a bit, because it goes into me. My head starts to ache, my ear too, but I start to see color ... just a little. Everything still has a grey tint, but I can see a little color now. And then she hugs me. She feels cool ... which I like; her clothes feel cool. And she says "thank you, dear." And I find myself caring as she leaves, caring about here - hoping she will take care of herself. Red closes the door and sits on the floor at the head of the bed, just like before. And I finally speak to him. My voice is very quiet, and I feel like crying ... but I speak his name. I say "Evan?" He looks at me like I'm a fucking miracle. But I say "am I horrible?" And he speaks to me, gets on his knees and wraps his arms around me. He says "no, my love, you are a good person. You do good things." And I actually move then, of my own will, and embrace him - though weak I feel. I press my forehead to the hollow of his neck, and I whisper "I'm sorry." And he just holds me and tells me that it was all right, that some things just have to happen - and he tells me to rest. I ask him if he would hold me for a while, and he crawls into bed next to me, pulls me up to sit, wraps my blanket around me and then embraces me from behind; I just clutch the blanket in place. He tucks my head under his chin and I just stare ahead. And then I start to cry; it's a quiet cry, but I am crying. Evan starts to rock me and I whisper "I'm sorry, Evan. I'm sorry." And he says "Shh. It's all right. Rest now." I wake up. I think that I, in my dreams, am in love with Evan. I seriously think that now. I don't know why I remember this dream so vividly, but I do. The next two dreams are more like flashes. Second dream: I'm weak still, too weak to go anywhere on my own. Evan is with me, and he's always holding onto my hand (I can still feel it). He's leading me somewhere underground. We're running from this dark entity - something that I'm too weak to fight off. I can remember glimpses of tar-like tentacles and a lot of running. Evan leads me into this below ground place - I think it's a library - there are boxes of old papers, scripts, books, manuscripts - and Evan grabs this random yellowed piece of sheet music (though I think he knew what it was) and leads me further inside - much running. The Dream Me is tired beyond tired, feeling like I'm about to pass out at any given moment - and the dark thing is getting closer. I fall, Evan grabs me from behind and twists me in the air so that I land on him. He hands me the sheet music and my piccolo and yells for me to "Play it!" I don't really want to, but there's this insect-like sound getting louder or coming closer and it's surrounding me and the tar-like tentacles are closing in on me. Things are getting dark. Evan keeps yelling for me to "play it!" - and then, just as I'm about to not see anything anymore, I put the piccolo to my lips and play a very high A flat - I wake up, scared, covered in a cold sweat. I'm panting. I sit up. I did NOT like that dream. Last Dream: I don't remember much of this one. I'm surrounded by darkness, but I can see the figure I'm with. I can't see his face, but I remember dark hair and black clothing. He's laying on his back on the ground and I'm sitting on top of him, straddling him. He feels hard ... like muscle hard. And I know this guy, I think. He feels familiar. I've seen him before - I'm thinking of light refracting in crystals. But then, lately, everyone's been feeling familiar to me. He looks asleep - or dead. It's hard to tell sometimes. I'm looking down on him - I'm massaging his chest; I whisper "wake up." Nothing. "Wake up." Nothing. I repeat this for a while - it's like I'm trying to revive him from a coma. Finally, I realize that my piccolo is in my hand, I put it to my lips, and I play this very soft and beautiful chromatic glissando. I press my fists on the guy's chest again and whisper "wake up." And his eyes open. I'm happy at this, I lean forward and I smile as I look into his eyes (though I can't remember them now) and I whisper "Welcome back." And this guy looks like he's been raised from the dead - or seen a ghost - as frantic as he gets. He grabs my arms and turns me - and we trade places. He just stares at me - and I just smile at him. That's all I remember. Yeah ... just ... end. Someone ... please ... help me make sense of this ... Blessed be.