Again, from about a month ago, re: TFTS (Texts From The Subconscious):
But what a strange day for thoughts; see, waking up from some really come-to-Jesus monumental morning dreams, followed by almost- but not-quite-lucid dreams makes one almost obligated to get rid of excess mental verbiage.
Dreams where you literally have business to attend to in literal Hell, as in like a cavernous fiery rocky brimstony milieu where little gargoylish demons are dancing around and eating severed human limbs as though they were Manchu’s Fried Chicken. And the next second you are spooning with one of your high school’s football captains whom you had a crush on in maybe like the fourth grade but whose extremely limited vocabulary and renowned ‘roid rage eventually became a turn-off as you came of age. What makes this little scene better is that it appears the token Japanese kid is this bro’s roommate, and he is not at all thrilled about what is going on like five feet away in the next bed. But no matter—your protective, defensive, perhaps even maternal instincts are in full throttle, and your subconscious reminds you that in your arms is a man broken at a young age by the untimely death of a brother, among probably a host of other afflictions to the soul which are apt to quietly eat away at the privileged suburban youth of the 90’s in a way that is still in the process of being understood.
And then there is that sudden switch of scenery, and you are standing on a slightly forested hillside in what looks vaguely like Fairhope, AL, all kudzu right down to the feeble strip of sand that delineates municipality from bay, and your boss is standing next to you and suddenly turns to you and asks you if this is what you really want, because he himself wanted to work in the aluminum mill in Birmingham as a metal smoother (?), but somehow ended up doing this, and do you really want to become complacent and settled here, or is there something else you really want, somewhere else you’d rather be? And of course you just stand there and don’t really say anything; after all he is your boss and you don’t want to lose your job, but then of course deep down you know he’s right, and you have been busy building this prison around yourself all in the name of trying to find some security.
I’ve got a halo ‘round my head.
Maybe good old Dave was right, that there may not be angels, but there are people who might as well be angels. Funny how some really random characters from real life are apt to come visit you in dreams and tell you all sorts of shit that ends up sticking. I have yet to accidentally quote someone from something they’ve unknowingly (well, presumably, anyway) told me in a dream, but it will probably happen at some point and cause all sorts of confusion. It may have actually happened last week when I could have sworn my roommate had asked me to clean the kitchen, although it’s safe to say that even if she didn’t say it aloud, it was probably a thought transferred on a dust mote into my ear and onto some neurotransmitter, because God knows our kitchen could use a thorough scrub-down.