Reality Slipping

I have been having some dreams lately. Very interesting dreams. They make me think more than they should. I mean, dreams are only something you want to see yourself or something else as, right? In the dictionary, a dream is defined as a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep. I suppose it could just be your hyperness coming out in a visonary form within your sleep. There are some strange things that happen within the dreaming state. You may experience death, love, a prophecy, or maybe even something most pleasant only to you and others close to you. The dreams I have been having have been giving me inspiration and often pain. Physical and mental. I flashback to the nightmares of what happened when I was a child, and then I come to the greatest moments of the greatest eras of my life. Everything that has been going on has been very...unplanned, or spontaneous if you must call it by another name. I am starting to look at life with a few different views, some optimistic and others pessimistic. Everything happens for a reason; Live your life expecting anything, even death itself; Shit Happens. I don't know if these dreams really mean anything though. It all falls apart, but as Chuck said, "Everything is a small detail. It might not mean anything alone, but together, it's like a puzzle of knowledge." I have been reading a lot too. A lot of Chuck again. Also I stopped at Half-Priced books and picked up a few Poe compilations. Great inspitation. After rereading a bunch of the books I have collected in the past year or so, I kinda thought to myself about my future. What to do with such a meaningless thing. I mean really, what of it. The money? The pride? The justice? Is it all some sick twisted game for everyone to poke and laugh at? You tell them a dream and the act like you are a Smurf in the real world. The little blue speck on the bottom of society's shoe. The skidmark on a poor peasent's piece of cloth they call underwear. You tell them you want to be an English teacher and they act like you are a terrorist or something. There is nothing you can do right. You cannot please anyone, not even yourself. It all revolves. The only love we know well, is the love for ourselves. We never leave the house until we feel that we look acceptable to the public. What has this world come to? Perfection? Completion? Purity? It's all the same shit isn't it? The world isn't static. The future you had yesterday isn't the same as you will have tomorrow. No matter how hard you try or want it to happen, it won't stay the same. Maybe similar, but not the same. We work so hard to idolize one specific thing. Time, effort, hard work into one little piece to be appreciated for one day. One week. Then it's trashed. Ditched on the side of the road. Like a christmas tree. Or the wrapping for a gift from your parents. The reason we only want ourselves to be "perfect" is so someone looking for themselves in you can find you. Again, the only love we know is the love for ourselves so we look for ourselves in others. We see God as a father figure based on our own father and if your father ran out on you, or died, you look to what they portray of him. They don't show the bad traits. Yeah Baby Jesus was great. The Garden. Terriffic. It's all the milked stuff. Dragged out to what we want it to be. Plagues. That's the juicy stuff. The deals with the Devil. Everything that we know or knew in reality is slowly slipping. In my dreams I hear the phone ring. It's my ringtone. I try and answer it, but I'm busy with my other observations. I control my dreams sometimes. I consider it a special power. I'm not sure what to do with the power, but I can make it what it's not. Sure, I get less sleep, but I have fun. I wake up smiling. It's great. These dreams make me feel like God watching over everything. I can tweak the things I want to. I can make things that should not even be spoken of happen. I die in my dreams often. I don't wake up before the killing. It happens. It makes me think, will everything come to me in my soul? Will I be as bored as I am now, or will I be partying with my Baby Uncle Michael. The Crocodile Hunter with Ms. Peel playing the Flute for him. Are we going to have one uber party, or will I sulk into a boredom for eternity. If I am reborn, will I remember it? If someone reminds me, will it jog my memories of the life I once had? Everything comes together in some twisted fairy tale ending. Everyone knows that the story doesn't end at "happily ever after". There are later years and tragedies. It all unfolds like a picture book of hell. I guess these are my thoughts coming up and about with all the random things circling my head? Who knows. All I can do is thank Chuck and Poe. Jared and Davis. They all make me think outside the decagon. Everything will have its purpose. Eventually.