My dream was very... It.. It told so much about myself. I don't know myself because I want so much to be someone else. The only reason I can think of that I don't know myself is that I refuse to believe it. But I know..
In my dream last night... This boy - after not seeing him for a long time, I met him again (you can decide if this sentence has to do with my real life or my dream - or both). And I thought it would be fine. I thought I'd be okay with it, that I got over it, but I don't know if I did. Maybe that's one of the things I refuse to listen to when my inner light says something.
In the dream, we were just hanging out. I don't remember where we were, but I think we were at my old house. And something happened. So I became upset. And I didn't want everyone else to know, so I went up to what was my room. I didn't expect him to follow me, but he did. And I shut the door, and turned around to see his concerned and inquisitive face watch me, and I knew he wanted to know what was the matter...
I really had no real reason to be this angry. I had no reason to lock myself in my room and sulk. But I told him my secrets about myself and opened up to him like I've never done before, whether in life or dreams. And he hugged me, but at the same time he was still sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, staring at the floor. Then he helped me pull myself together.
Then time went by and the dream skipped the rest to go right to the next important part. (But in my head, I knew what happened in the time skipped - after much talking and sharing secrets with each other, we felt like we didn't even need to talk, and just sat there in silence - but not an awkward silence.) We were still in my room, but he was asleep and curled up on my bed. I was sitting on the farther end of the bed, left with my own thoughts. Had I been alone, I would've been talking out loud.. But since he was there (even though he was asleep), I didn't say anything. Even in my dream, I was thinking about how I don't know myself, and how even I didn't expect to tell him that much. Then I stopped thinking altogether and waited. I don't know what I was waiting for.
Then someone was able to open my locked door.. And made me wake him up. He looked like he was never asleep, because he woke up easily and wasn't groggy. He looked at me and gave me another hug, but again, at the same time, he stood up and led the way out of the room. Then we went downstairs. I noticed by the time the dream was fading out that he had his arm around my shoulders to comfort me and let me know he was there for me. I was thinking that he wasn't really doing that, just like he might not have been hugging me. But he was.
But he wasn't.
And then the dream ended.
Does anyone else seem like English, in dreams, just doesn't work? Do you have a different language? Because.. I do.. am I just weird? There are feelings and explanations that can't be translated into English, and that's why my dreams to me make so much sense, but I can't decipher it in the language that all of you would understand. And that's why I always wish I could capture them straight from my "imagination" and literally show you my mind..
Oh, I know there's my whole life that's contained in that one dream, and I can put to words only so much. And even if I tried for a day, I couldn't explain it all to you. You know, I'm a lot more than you think I am. I know because I have many different faces. And I only show less than half of them. The others are in my words. And blank stares. If you've been able to pick them out, thank you.
Later on in my entry, I mentioned that the boy in my dream was not Alex. But when I think about it, I vividly remember sitting beside a boy who looked and acted like him. He wore a white T-shirt, blue jeans, had dirty blonde hair, and deep eyes. He would be the one to silently remind me of reason and keep me calm. If I try to recall other dream characters, familiar and unfamiliar alike, I can't quite pick another one out who was as reasonable, sane, or reassuring as him. Like I mentioned before (or perhaps I haven't yet, here): he was my protector. He'd keep me from dying, from being caught, from being seen. Who knows what I was running from?
(or i think i do)
Matt is very much like him when he needs to be...
I also do remember dreaming of my old house. No longer am I unsure of what the setting was in this dream from 5 years ago. It's as if it's a memory from last year. I was in the living room of my house, with the furniture set up as it was a couple of years before we moved out. There was a house party going on, with aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins everywhere. And the boy.
There was music playing, people were laughing, and the smell of food was in the air. It was mid-afternoon when I remembered something from my past (even in the dream, I thought of things that actually happened), and my disposition turned sour. It was dangerous, I thought, to remain in the company of all those happy people, so for their sake and, I guess, for my own, I went upstairs to the bedroom I shared with my sisters and walked across the floor.
After I turned around and saw Alex standing by the dresser like a curious, sympathetic cat, I let him come inside and locked the door. I wasn't quite sure if that was the right thing to do or not, but it was the safest thing for me to do.
The rest of the dream is accurate.
Again, it's easy yet difficult to explain the issue of overlapping instances of time. Easy, because obviously I could find the words to describe it as best I could: it happened, but it didn't.
Difficult, because..... well, can you imagine it without exerting a lot of effort? It happened. But it didn't. He hugged me. But he didn't. I'm not being figurative at all. He literally (well, "dream-literally") hugged me, and yet he was 5 feet away from me, sitting on the carpet.
One more thing I've noticed this time around.
Thinking about my subconscious, isn't it a bit strange that I wanted to hide something from people who weren't real? People I created in my mind? I was hiding from myself.
I used a similar vocabulary in the first paragraph of that original entry, but I don't think I understood it the same way. I just saw myself as wanting to hide things from people in real life.
Now I see myself as having attempted to hide things from none other than my self.
Denying who I was. Possibly, who I am.
When I began typing tonight, I didn't know I'd end up writing these things.
This dream blog is getting dangerous.