A dream worth reading.
Before I forget, I had a bizarre dream last night:
I was in Chicago, and I met this gorgeous French guy - very effeminate, very intelligent, very artistic. I asked what he did for a career, and he said he was a nurse (which is what I plan on becoming in the future). He then took me to this very nice hotel suite with a nice bed (hehe). I laid down on the bed, then he started building things in the hotel room (yeah, you thought this was going somewhere else, didn't you?). It was like the materials to build the room were there, but the room wasn't put together. I watched him (sweaty muscles and all) constructing a cabinet to the bathroom, oddly enough. Eventually, he came to bed with me and we laid down side-by-side on our backs. When I looked up, I found that there was no roof to the hotel room....and I was faced by a magnificent starry sky. I could see the milky way. He spoke to me in French, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, until I fell asleep. When we awoke, I was in the bed by myself, but in the middle of a really shitty part of Chicago. I turned to my beautiful French darling only to find him replaced by some homeless bum that had flies swirling around his head. When I sat up, the cops were there, ready to arrest one of us for trespassing and for whatever else. THe dream skipped about a month...and I was sitting at a computer, after a month of desperately searching for this whimsical dream man who had come and gone so fast. I had found his online journal (haha...a brilliant French man with a livejournal...what a riot!) and was reading his entries aloud. He had written tons of beautiful poetry, and had apparently been writing about me all along. He was in the same dilemma as I - desperately searching for me, this beautiful extraordinary girl that had slipped through his fingers so fast. I remember his speech pattern in the dream was much different than mine...specifically, he had used the word "folly" which I don't believe I have used once in my life - he used it to describe how stupid he had been for letting me get away from him. I found that strange...it was also strange that the poetry of his that I was reading in the dream was so beautiful....I know that my subconscious came up with it, not this ridiculous "man". Where are those poetic words when I need them the most? Anyways, The dream ended there. I was awoken by the chill in my room and the cat outside of my door meowing. Hate when the reality slips through your dreams. It always ruins things...
I was in Chicago, and I met this gorgeous French guy - very effeminate, very intelligent, very artistic. I asked what he did for a career, and he said he was a nurse (which is what I plan on becoming in the future). He then took me to this very nice hotel suite with a nice bed (hehe). I laid down on the bed, then he started building things in the hotel room (yeah, you thought this was going somewhere else, didn't you?). It was like the materials to build the room were there, but the room wasn't put together. I watched him (sweaty muscles and all) constructing a cabinet to the bathroom, oddly enough. Eventually, he came to bed with me and we laid down side-by-side on our backs. When I looked up, I found that there was no roof to the hotel room....and I was faced by a magnificent starry sky. I could see the milky way. He spoke to me in French, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, until I fell asleep. When we awoke, I was in the bed by myself, but in the middle of a really shitty part of Chicago. I turned to my beautiful French darling only to find him replaced by some homeless bum that had flies swirling around his head. When I sat up, the cops were there, ready to arrest one of us for trespassing and for whatever else. THe dream skipped about a month...and I was sitting at a computer, after a month of desperately searching for this whimsical dream man who had come and gone so fast. I had found his online journal (haha...a brilliant French man with a livejournal...what a riot!) and was reading his entries aloud. He had written tons of beautiful poetry, and had apparently been writing about me all along. He was in the same dilemma as I - desperately searching for me, this beautiful extraordinary girl that had slipped through his fingers so fast. I remember his speech pattern in the dream was much different than mine...specifically, he had used the word "folly" which I don't believe I have used once in my life - he used it to describe how stupid he had been for letting me get away from him. I found that strange...it was also strange that the poetry of his that I was reading in the dream was so beautiful....I know that my subconscious came up with it, not this ridiculous "man". Where are those poetic words when I need them the most? Anyways, The dream ended there. I was awoken by the chill in my room and the cat outside of my door meowing. Hate when the reality slips through your dreams. It always ruins things...