day 09 – five things you would like to see change.
What, am I supposed to go all Miss America and wish for world peace?
I’m not. I’ve always thought that was the biggest crock anyway. Besides the fact that pageants are the stupidest thing on the planet. Yet, I watch Toddlers & Tiaras. Could someone please explain to me what that’s about and why I do it?
Anyway. Let’s do this.
- People could be nicer to the people they love. Why is that the case? Why do we always treat the people we love the most with the least care?
- I’d have some legitimate way of making money. One that did not involve genitals or nakedness.
- I would love to clean. Like, adrenaline rush high love. Can you imagine how gloriously neat and clean everything would be?
- Likewise, I’d love to exercise. I’d be one of those marathon running Olympic people. And abs!
- I would be endlessly, lovingly, irrationally unselfish. Seriously, how nice would it be to never be jealous or dissatisfied? Sigh. I suppose my wanting to be unselfish for those reasons actually technically qualifies as selfish.
day 10 – describe a dream you had this week in detail.
Do people normally remember their dreams? I mean, I remember them, but things are jumbled and I only have snippets.
Also, I should say that I take Zoloft and my dreams are awesome. Like movies.
Anyway, I was in this odd prison sort of setting. Prison in that I couldn’t leave, but there were no bars or anything. Everyone in this prison had their own little cubbyhole type of place where they were supposed to sleep, except I befriended this one girl who was like, ultimately tough. She didn’t sleep in her cubbyhole. I don’t think she ever slept, actually, but that wasn’t an issue. She showed me how to make notes and hide them from…who? I don’t know. For that matter, I don’t know why I needed to write notes or WHAT I DID TO BE IN CUBBYHOLE PRISON IN THE FIRST PLACE.
So after a bit, we were supposed to get dressed up in black and go to Cubbyhole Prison Church. Our families were allowed to come visit for church, and for some reason this girl I knew in elementary school, Michele Goode, she was who came to visit me. She looked just the same as I remember her. Frankly, the fact I remember her at all is kind of miraculous because I haven’t been in elementary school in far too long. I just remember she had black hair and kind of squinty eyes, and she got in trouble for telling Mrs. Pratt that she “screwed up” her grade. Apparently “screwed up” is too PG for sixth grade.
So Cubbyhole Church was intertwined with some elaborate plan I had to escape. I remember packing up all my notes and then Lucy woke up.
I love dreams. They’re so damn odd.