Thursday, September 15, 2005
A Dream with creaky wooden floors.
Everything has to be sorted and guard against trusting anyone too easily if they talk to you. There were three names for flowers which I needed to remember for protection against people who wanted to harm me. I can remember these names in my dream but can not recall the names after I wake up. In this dream I avoided people as much as I could, but a supervisor I once knew wanted me to come to work. I couldn't drive there because the car no longer ran, so I began to walk. It is very enjoyable to walk and I thought to myself that I should walk to work every day, but it was getting dark. Night was arriving and I wasn't even half way to work, but who would care since I don't know that supervisor anymore. People change and sometimes we all die before our bodies have finished living, and no one seems to notice except those of us who have an overwhelming urge to eat pork. In this case I'm not going to finish the path I first began and instead I end up in an old wooden building that would be better fit for burning than occupied by people. At least living people that is. I soon learned that I was very unhappy in this old crumbling building as I explored its halls and looked into the dusty rooms. For a moment I went back outside and wondered if I might continue to walk to work, but after looking at the stars for a few moments I decided against it. Back inside the building things were becoming progressively worse. I found a room with a theater stage, red curtains and large orange pieces of paper all over the floor. Some kind of puppet opera was about to begin without anyone to watch the show, but the puppets were all going back stage just as the singing began. This song was some opera tune and it sounded very badly done, but person who's singing voice was raged and sour. I left the theater as quickly as I could and found a familiar hall and room, but I could still hear the dreadful singing for the soon to start puppet show. I felt no good could come from this show and I wanted to hide, which made me think I needed to either go outside again or slip into the small closet at the end of the hall. I heard foot steps coming and I definitely didn't want anyone finding me, because who could be trusted in a dusty old building where some kind of opera puppet show was about to begin. I decided to hide in the closet, but as I walked down the hall I could hear the floor boards creaking and surely this other person could hear them too. As I was half way into my hiding place and half way out I heard this other person stop walking so I froze my motions not to give away my location by squeaking any more boards. I waited for them to move again before wondering if they were listing for my foot steps too, and surely if I moved they would suddenly know exactly were I was trying to hide. I woke up before they began to walk again with myself half in and half out of hiding when the dream ended.
Posted by Stan on 09/15/05@08:55 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
I never thought I'd say this...
...and it's kind of sad, but Pink Floyd is sick. Yes, it's true. I got a tetanus shot the other day. Got it in my arm that's sore all the time anyway from charging dogs pulling the muscle from the ligament. Now it's really damn sore. I don't feel up to much.
Posted by Ann on 09/15/05@06:26 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
Sunday, September 11, 2005
A Letter...
...to those who voted for Bush by Michael Moore.
Posted by Ann on 09/11/05@12:13 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?
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