you are a poem. . .
Good morning world!
Normally, I wouldn't be doing this, but I felt it was necessary. Every once in awhile, you've got a dream so vivid and clear, that it has to be set into words. Too bad I'm a terrible writer. I do, however, have this thing where every few months, I read all of my old blogs and livejournal entries, and this is one I'd REALLY like to remember. Besides, I think that it would be amusing to anyone anyway. Let's hope I don't mess this up. :)
[A little bit of background]
Back in 2006 (right around this time of year) I began seeing my parents next door neighbor, Eric. I call it seeing, I don't know if that's for-real how it was. I liked him way more than I should have, and thus I became a ball of mushy, retarded girlbrains (which I hear are excellent when deep fried :)).
One night during the winter of that year, I was browsing myspace (like I had done ten million times before; I never, ever messaged anyone. . .except to tell them they were ass-hats), and I come across his profile. I send him a message saying something about how I'm 99.99% sure he lives next door to me, and we began to speak via myspace messages. Lame, but whatever, he was so cute (photographic evidence. . . what's up, stalker :)). I guess I thought he was just right for me because he was such a sarcastic dick-wad, he was tall (sup 6'2"), looked Jewish (which at one point, was a dating prerequisite with me), and he just plain was awesome (even if he liked Taking Back Sunday).
I probably never would have started any IRL shit with him if it weren't for my best friend, Callie. Who oh-so boldly decided it would be a good idea to shake things up and go next door, and "introduce" us. Fuck. That night and several nights a week for the next few months, he and I would either talk on AIM (ms 8263772 faye, hit me up, I'm always bored) or via text messaging, and he would happen to "forget" to lock his front door, or just plain leave it open. I'd come over and spend the night, and there would be makeout parties abound!
All of this ended in fall of 2006, shortly after I moved to school. I would spend the night, at least three times a week (more like once a week when I started school). He and I had officially gone on two dates, and things were working nicely, but he decided he'd rather be with someone else. He moved to New York shortly thereafter, and I really hope he's doing well.
If anyone knows Mr. Ericpants Park's whereabouts, send him a "what's up?" and a "don't die" from VanessaFaye
Oh Ericpants, why did I have a dream about you last night? What THE hell?
[End background information]
This dream was PRETTY strange. . .and. . . begin!
I guess I'm walking through this hallway, everything is white and serene, and the people that are around me are mostly ghosts. I'm having a conversation with an older man, his beard is long and white. It's not flowing, nor is it well-kempt. He's thin, and he's cheeks looked punched in. He's got on gray robes that match his eyes and are way too pale to be normal. He's telling me that I can pick one ghost's soul to be mine, and bring back to life and to be mine. But only one.
I told him, gravely, that I understood. The old man began to close off the hallway we were walking through. He even had vent-covers. As the gray old man was snapping the last cover into place, I whispered his name, I whispered for Eric. The last syllable hadn't quite crossed my lips when a young man, ashen and gray stood before me, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran to him, and he kissed me hard. I couldn't believe this was the ghost of the man I had loved. As our lips met, he became warm, and the gray covering him melted away. His hair and eyes went from dusty charcoal, to warm chocolate as his skin tanned from head to foot. I can only imagine the tattoo on his shoulder melting from ash to scarlet.
Next thing that is happens, I ask him if he wants to find the band (because in crazy mindfuck dreamland, Eric was a famous kid). He says he'd rather not because they'd probably found a replacement for him. It took a lot of convincing, but I finally told him that they'd slipped into dormancy after his disappearance. He agrees and we head out into the city.
Its a large city to which I've never been. There were, at one point, sky scrapers everywhere, but they had fallen into decay after the apocalypse (wtf dream). There's snow everywhere, and ruins too, so it makes it kind of crazy to navigate. We manage. We find a ruin, namely a crazy trolly covered in salt. Which I explain is the rarest spice known to man. Eric is taken aback and confused, you can see it in his eyes. . . .AND. . . . wake up!
That's that, wtf weird dream!
Normally, I wouldn't be doing this, but I felt it was necessary. Every once in awhile, you've got a dream so vivid and clear, that it has to be set into words. Too bad I'm a terrible writer. I do, however, have this thing where every few months, I read all of my old blogs and livejournal entries, and this is one I'd REALLY like to remember. Besides, I think that it would be amusing to anyone anyway. Let's hope I don't mess this up. :)
[A little bit of background]
Back in 2006 (right around this time of year) I began seeing my parents next door neighbor, Eric. I call it seeing, I don't know if that's for-real how it was. I liked him way more than I should have, and thus I became a ball of mushy, retarded girlbrains (which I hear are excellent when deep fried :)).
One night during the winter of that year, I was browsing myspace (like I had done ten million times before; I never, ever messaged anyone. . .except to tell them they were ass-hats), and I come across his profile. I send him a message saying something about how I'm 99.99% sure he lives next door to me, and we began to speak via myspace messages. Lame, but whatever, he was so cute (photographic evidence. . . what's up, stalker :)). I guess I thought he was just right for me because he was such a sarcastic dick-wad, he was tall (sup 6'2"), looked Jewish (which at one point, was a dating prerequisite with me), and he just plain was awesome (even if he liked Taking Back Sunday).
I probably never would have started any IRL shit with him if it weren't for my best friend, Callie. Who oh-so boldly decided it would be a good idea to shake things up and go next door, and "introduce" us. Fuck. That night and several nights a week for the next few months, he and I would either talk on AIM (ms 8263772 faye, hit me up, I'm always bored) or via text messaging, and he would happen to "forget" to lock his front door, or just plain leave it open. I'd come over and spend the night, and there would be makeout parties abound!
All of this ended in fall of 2006, shortly after I moved to school. I would spend the night, at least three times a week (more like once a week when I started school). He and I had officially gone on two dates, and things were working nicely, but he decided he'd rather be with someone else. He moved to New York shortly thereafter, and I really hope he's doing well.
If anyone knows Mr. Ericpants Park's whereabouts, send him a "what's up?" and a "don't die" from VanessaFaye
Oh Ericpants, why did I have a dream about you last night? What THE hell?
[End background information]
This dream was PRETTY strange. . .and. . . begin!
I guess I'm walking through this hallway, everything is white and serene, and the people that are around me are mostly ghosts. I'm having a conversation with an older man, his beard is long and white. It's not flowing, nor is it well-kempt. He's thin, and he's cheeks looked punched in. He's got on gray robes that match his eyes and are way too pale to be normal. He's telling me that I can pick one ghost's soul to be mine, and bring back to life and to be mine. But only one.
I told him, gravely, that I understood. The old man began to close off the hallway we were walking through. He even had vent-covers. As the gray old man was snapping the last cover into place, I whispered his name, I whispered for Eric. The last syllable hadn't quite crossed my lips when a young man, ashen and gray stood before me, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I ran to him, and he kissed me hard. I couldn't believe this was the ghost of the man I had loved. As our lips met, he became warm, and the gray covering him melted away. His hair and eyes went from dusty charcoal, to warm chocolate as his skin tanned from head to foot. I can only imagine the tattoo on his shoulder melting from ash to scarlet.
Next thing that is happens, I ask him if he wants to find the band (because in crazy mindfuck dreamland, Eric was a famous kid). He says he'd rather not because they'd probably found a replacement for him. It took a lot of convincing, but I finally told him that they'd slipped into dormancy after his disappearance. He agrees and we head out into the city.
Its a large city to which I've never been. There were, at one point, sky scrapers everywhere, but they had fallen into decay after the apocalypse (wtf dream). There's snow everywhere, and ruins too, so it makes it kind of crazy to navigate. We manage. We find a ruin, namely a crazy trolly covered in salt. Which I explain is the rarest spice known to man. Eric is taken aback and confused, you can see it in his eyes. . . .AND. . . . wake up!
That's that, wtf weird dream!