I dreamt I was in this hotel with many elevators (inspiration: my work place) except this hotel was incredibly large and haunted (I have a thing for spirits and ghosts in my dreams), and it had an Olympic size pool in a secluded hidden area you could only find by one spiral ascending and descending, mini-white elevator (also have a thing for architectural enigmas, water, and secret hiding places). My predilection for bizarre architecture dreams leads me to think I should continue my schooling in architecture, even if according to every typical mom in the country it is no longer a top grossing income, and engineers are more loaded. Big fucking deal, it is that or starving artist, moms. So second part of dream, two people complained about me being stoned, including my hairdresser’s coworker, because my actual hairdresser (I mean in the dream) was extremely fat and wanted to charge thirty for a trim, and I thought, oh hell no, bye (maybe should hold off on pot as I find most chemicals except for coffee overbearing on my little system these days)…off to an expensive massage. But worth it. And I should shower first. Last night I ran in the rain than fell to sleep in a melatonin stupor. I have to admit the boy with dark locks was in the dream too. I fear he will never go away, but we know that’s not true, not nearly.
Tag Archives: boy
In the beginning there was man. He talked a lot about his Transformer collection, and memorized quotes from the Big Lebowski or Nietzsche, depending on his daily leanings and mood, in order to impress his friends. And then he met a girl and she was heartbroken over a guy. He thought maybe he could help this girl feel better, and he liked how sad she felt next to him. And so he followed her around like a labradoodle. And then the girl became happy, and she made impossibly witty jokes with a straight face that could confuse people because she looked really sweet but she was downright caustic at times. But he liked it a lot and they lived happily ever after baking cookies, and talking about their dreams to make a darkroom, travel cross country to ghost towns interviewing redneck ranchers and diner waitresses, and try new sexual positions together. But this only lasted for a very short time because soon she was too happy and he saw another girl that was sad like this girl had been, smiling sweetly and nearly completely mute because it was so physically exhausting to be sad that talking was too much of an ordeal for her mouth. And so the guy started to fall in romantic love with the second girl, and I only say romantic love because it wasn’t obviously real love. Because real love doesn’t just transport itself from one girl to another the second aforementioned original sad girl starts to tell jokes and smile for real. It was only in this romantic love state that the Jung and Nietzsche and Osho and Blake quoting guy could stand up proud and say he was going to save another girl, like a knight, with a white horse, and shiny armor. But he stood and his zipper was unzipped, and he was embarrassed. And he took the new girl by the hand but her hand was clammy. And the original sad girl was sad again, so much so that she couldn’t form a sentence, and her eyes shone sparkly in the sun like pools of tears gathered between trees of lashes; and sad girl number two was too happy to even notice that the boy was unbearably discontent, like a horse with a barrel of bananas instead of carrots. And so there was man and being as he could never be happy with what he had man was eternally disappointed, and couldn’t think of a thing new to say that could impress even himself because all of the new movies had bad dialogue and relied on CGI effects to make them worth their insane ticket prices…and everything else had been written in real books with wisdom, but looked cheap in Kindles and therefore couldn’t be oralized with any gumption whatsoever. It was a really sad conclusion to man who as a boy had dreamt of meeting a strong happy girl, and as a boy had wanted to hold her hand as an equal, an artist, a lover, as a man.