And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

I know the reason for it being as it has lately. Why I sleep with a candle burning next to my slumberess head. I feel the breeze and touch of the spirits, I hear the laughter and singing they bring with their presence, the crying and weeping they try to hide from you. I’m not sure why she is so persistant with death lately. I guiltily should have realised sooner. I diassociate the lapse of time I should never forget. So pressed into my mind are nightmares. The most vivid and creative ways of death, pain and torture upon my soul. I do not ask for this. I hate this.

I slept 23  hours straight over the weekend, not from cause of my own. My body was trapped, under my mind which forever churned out the dreams and events before my internal eye, not allowing my body to function and awake itself.

I dreamt of rape. By someone I am fearful of. He came to my house, held me down, My screams muffled by the sting of his fist against my face. The throbbing of pain between my legs and the arch of my back in a wrongful unnatural position. I tried screaming. Nobody came until it was too late. I was found bruised and bloody slumped against a wall.  He walked away laughing. This is a dream I remember so vividly but wish not to at all.

I dreamt of fire. Burning housefire. We were pulled from it safely. But as I watch the flames lick closer to where my written and photographic posistions were held, I sobbed and reached out for all my memories soon to be lost. No place left in the world, no record of my existance being able to remain through such force. I ran back into the house. Clutching and ducking the beams of fire above my head. I reached the bookshelf, I touched my albums and diaries of years gone by. They turned to dust.  The fire hadn’t even reached that area yet, but somehow, life did not want these possesions to remain. I let the blackbness ofthe charred smoke fill my lungs, sting my eyes, and the carbon dioxide to take my conciousness.

I dreamt of death. The death of a baby. I was in another life, perhaps myself older, mature, calmer and above all, happy. I was surround by love and warmth, and carried a beautiful double set golden pair of rings upon my wedding finger. In my dream, I tried to recall the other aspects of my life, who was I sharing it with, where was I living? But my dream did not want me to know all this, just understand I was happy in my time. I felt sensations in my abdomen, and remembered a flash of a warm embrace with someone and realised I was pregnant. The dream focused in fast succesion the process of change upon my body. From subtle growth, to the gentle bubble like feeling of when the child moved inside me. The happiness at baby showers, lotioning the growing skin, Laughter and soft pink colours of a nursery. The the day arrived, I was surrounded by loved ones, the pain of giving birth in a dream was rather frightening, but overtaken by adrenelin. The bundle arrived, the room went silent. A bundle wrapped in pink was taken out of the room. I searched the eyes of the attending people lingering in the room, their eyes showed sadness, beyond belief. I wanted to know what was wrong? Why was there no crying coming from the other room, why was no one acknowledging me? I jumped out of bed, and ran into the adjoining room. There before my eyes, was a hollow, lifeless gray body of something so tiny and miraculous, it looked like it wasn’t even there. I had given birth to a child who had already passed on.

I dreamt others like the three above. Each time waking up sobbing, screaming, exhausted, irrational and dillusional. But to relive the rest of them, in order to detail them in words, would exhaust me even more. Just the memories of such visions, so real and life like, that my brain still has trouble deciding the difference between reality and not. I don’t want to know to be honest. Sleep allows me to avoid all in life. Well I thought it did. I want to sleep to escape my reality, but my sleeping mind is now worse that real life. I’m scared to go to sleep, and scared to stay awake. Is there not some place between I can substantiate a viewing glass of life? Yet not be involved as much as I am at the moment… I’m scared of the next second, the next phone call, the next email, the next letter, the next conversation with someone around me, scared of tomorrow, of tonight, of deciding anything from lunch to where should I be on my break. When I make a decision, I’m scared its the wrong one. I’m not normally like this, but I feel as though I given the reigns of my soul to someone else for a while. No one in particular, just in auto-pilot mode whilst I take a break. Oh how badly do I need a break…

More Weird Dreams

Dreams I had last night. 

• I was at a pub wearing socks and no shoes. I went to pee and the toilet floor was covered in sticky pee and I got stuck and had to grab onto the toilet in the cubicle to get myself out.
• I was in bed with someone (no idea who) and they gave me shit for wearing socks to bed and said ‘What are you? An American school girl?’
• I was in a house fire and I was crawling along the floor under the smoke to try to save my photo albums. Then Silver came in and dragged me outside.
• I was Magical and lived with a very rich and powerful couple. I was surrogate for their twin babies who could talk as newborns and predicted the end of the world for all but their family. The government then stole the babies but they teleported back to us.. The couple and I had to use very evil magic to protect all 5 of us, but in the end they committed suicide and hung the babies from the chandelier in the main hall of their mansion, and I found them.
• I was with a work mate, in a tiny apartment in New York trying on Medieval Dresses which took all day to put on, then all night to take off and we had to sleep there for two nights just to try on two dresses. It was exhausting.
• I took my brother to his first concert.
• I got married and my groom died of a heart attack at the altar. I woke up covered in sweat like never before and was balling my eyes out.. I hugged the pillow and felt it was wet from tears, I sat up in bed and realised I was sleep crying. Intense is all I can say.

 There were many more scary short dreams throughout the night. But I can’t remember them anymore. I think it’s my anti-depressants giving them to me. It’s started since I stopped smoking again..

 Weird. Weird. Weird.

Puzzles

I want to play a game, a puzzle, make this more personal. How about some photos? I love taking photos on my new phone, It takes 5 seconds for the camera to shutter so its like slow shutter speed all the time. Its captures usually the vision I have when I see it. Subtle messages to remind me of my thoughts at the time, the convinient truth for a change. I finally went through my phone pictures. Highly in need of a mass delete indeed. It shocked my own eyes to see some of those visions of memory which I dont posess as my own. Here I go…..

Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk.  That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.  ~Ernest Hemingway

Those really cool doctors that work from their house

Drugs have taught an entire generation of kids the metric system.

An Unattainable Dream

I was on a missionary deployment in Iraq. Setting up orphanages, helping women displaced, trying to shelter most from the constant gunfire and bombs. I was in mega war zone. But I felt strangely comfortable. Someone was with me, I just didn’t know who.

Next thing I know, there’s hundreds of us running across the arid dusty desert. Running desperately. Shots being fired behind us. Kids struggling, women falling over. We were running to a convoy of a train thing. Like ones similar to zoo’s that take people around the parks. Expect the carriages were mere square concrete blocks on wheels, tied together by rope with donkeys at the beginning. The convoy was moving. Everyone had to jump on and hold on for life as it rumbled away. I could see there were only 10 carriages left. I threw children on board, lifted the mothers up and turned around. I saw him. He ordered me to jump on now. Before the last one past. He turned around and continued to yell something into the distance. A dust storm blew up and I lost sight of him. The last carriage came and went. I was standing alone feeling relief we had managed to save so many lives.

A few minutes later, he walked into vision from the dust. He questioned why I hadn’t jumped on board when I had the chance. I said “I couldn’t leave you; I will always wait for you”. He smiled and kissed me. We walked towards the direction of safety arm in arm, feeling more secure than we ever had.