We have this person that we want to be. In dreams, we strive to be that person, even though we're unconscious ... but are we? Even in dreams we want to come off as the perfect person you see yourself as, in your quality world, with your quality life. Even when I dream, I get self-conscious of how I am ... Choir practice. Over and out again. Again and again and again. I'm sure he must have heard it. You probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Ah, the power of dreams, and yet ... I know, that if he was sleeping an hour ago, he would have heard beautiful, harmonious chamber choir voices singing Christmas music. At least ... I hope he did. If he was dreaming, he must have. Yes, choir. Madrigal Dinner is this week. And I'm the Lady of the Manor. Hilarious that the Lord of the Manor is gay? Fucking hilarious, actually. But I love him; Joshypoo is a very good friend. Playing the flute again as a strolling minstrel. I should probably be practicing right now instead of writing this entry, but I felt compelled to do this instead. Work soon. Need shower and food. I've just felt too distracted mentally to really focus on anything. Maybe it's the dreams. I suppose it is the dreams. Normally, I have very freaked-out, strange-ish dreams and yet ... lately, they have been good. Strangely good. They make sense, I suppose. And that is just one good part of it. I'm used to there being no meaning behind things and yet ... I'm sure that if you've read Quietseth's entry, you must know by now what I'm talking about. Dreams about Nathan Carter. Strange. Dreams that I've been having off and on for maybe ten years or so. When Seth showed me an episode of Radio Free Roscoe, I thought I was going to faint. I did zone out for a while, however. Ever since I told him about it, Seth has been recording every episode that comes on, studying Nate ... and I know ... that mine is not an obsession, but I am grateful that Seth tried that, to perhaps get his attention, even if the chance was slim. The earliest dream that I can clearly remember of Nate is a group of people, in this house. We were just kids, I think. Maybe 6th, 7th grade. Not sure. It's been a while, and the mind loses track and concept of time sometimes. Was he shy when he was a child? He seemed to be. I know I was, and to an extent, I still am. Very. In that house, it seemed familiar to me, but I would look in the rooms to just study my surroundings. In this one bedroom was three or four guys just talking or ... something. Hanging out, I think. And Nate was under the bed? What? Hiding, I think. I don't remember if he was sincerely hiding from someone, if he was just being shy, or if they were playing a game of hide and seek or what. But I do remember that. That, and his hair was darker then. I watched that episode of RFR (which I find hilarious that it's a TV show about radio DJ's ... same for Newsradio ... you know, that series with Dave Foley ... who also just happens to be from Toronto. Small world. But anyway, I watched it and I just kept thinking "his hair was darker than that." It didn't bug me or anything, moreso fascinated me that I actually remembered something like that. Then memories start pouring in. It happens. And last night I had a dream. He was there, and yet, I don't remember. And yet, and yet, and yet ... "Yet" seems to be my word of the month. The world, with as many people and places within it - It's getting smaller to me. Since that dream two weeks ago, I've been trying to hold on to the thought of him. To have finally actually found him, to have found someone in my dream ... it's kind of, I don't know - Relieving? Refreshing. And I want to hold on to that, so I've been trying to ... I feel like it might be working. I want to keep the link there, so badly. Interested, yes, more interested in this person I have never met than I have been in anyone ... ever. But isn't it that the more I want something, the more difficult it is to achieve? I'm not obsessing. I swear that I'm not. I'm not an obsessed fan. I don't have a crush and I'm not a stalker. Dreams have power ... and ... I just want to know. I'm starving to know ... Is that really him? It looks like him, sounds like him, and most definitely, those are his eyes, but ... could I just be going mad? "We're all mad here," said the Cheshire Cat. Maybe that's true. Maybe. And maybe he's ... out there. Somewhere. I've written enough, I think. Showers to take, food to eat, courses to study and work to go to. I blame Seth for getting me addicted to this site ... And I also thank him. So much.