just like dreamers in nice colors
today was weird. all about today and last night was wierd. it's not a nightmare, just kind of eery.i'm extremely on edge. last night i would wake up holding objects ready to throw them with unearthly force at the monster in my room. i had a dream that i was dating the nick in my art class. he's another registered nerd like my nick, but this one isn't way cool. but the dream was so nice, that me and this boy in my shcool were dating, his skin was so warm, it burnt everyone but me. come to think of it, it's the second time i've dreamt of being with him. then i go to school and can't make eye-contact with him for the love of mangoes and, then we're talking like usual and he mentions he has a girlfriend and i feel like i could vomit. what the shit?this blond patagonia poster boy snob jerk has me in a whirlwind, with myself and my otherself. i don't want to be with him, maybe yeah. no, no, he's really not incredibly nice, and i don't know why i'm so driven to him. then i get home, and i go about my shit and i'm doing everything that i dreamt three weeks ago and it's exactly like in the dream. usually this happens but only for a few minutes, but now it's like i know how the whole evening is going. after i get off this computer,someone is going to call me and i'll act excited, but really i'm lonely and then i might start crying and go to my room and this eerie kronos quartet movement will be on NPR. it's so surreal and weird. it's like my body and usual self is just a big human bulldozer and this silent sela who dreams is driving the bulldozer and watching what dirt it moves and remembering the squeaks from the bucketarm from dreams ago. and then these flashes of the jungle go ffffffzzzzzzooom across my silver screen, reminds me of the invitation to the secret jungle that will probably never be fulfilled.i keep seeing the colors, and every now and then i go back to a dream, i see orange paint in his studio, he holds it up and once again, i'm in his body and he holds up the brush with this orange paint that could move mountains with it's magic. he has beautiful thick hands. i watch him like it's a lesson, but i'm inside him so i don't feel overly emotional about our lesson together because i know we won't say bye,i'm not really there, but in his chest and behind his eyes looking out like a nine year old in a circus ride, loving and enjoying the sights like it will never end. it won't end, if i'm inside him we'll never have to say goodbye when it means we never know if we'll ever see eachother again even though we come so close to touching on the street that it sends sparks through our skin. like gabriel says, what if that's it, there's just two halves to the applecore and you think you found the other half, and you let it go, your life will be nothing. it's a miracle when you find the other half, because millions of people pass eachother on the street never acknowledging that their other half just made a left turn down the street with the yellow fire hydrant and petunias on the windowsil, the short street that swallows apple-halves for a living.