Nighty Night
I need to update more often...
So I had a nightmare last weekend. I'll start from the begining
The dream starts with me in a dressing room with world famous Brazilian model Giesle. She's changing into this silky silver dress as I sit there and watch. Every inch of her figure was of scale size. I have no idea how my mind did it, but it did. I was very proud of myself. So I took the little show as a cue that she was interested in me. I mean she didn't tell me to turn my head or get out right?
"You got the kind of beauty that Goddesses wish for"
"Wow you got the words little kid, but what kind of jeans are you wearing?"
"American Eagle why"
"I only date men who wear Diesel"
"What? I just sat here and watched you undress"
"I'm a model hunny lots of people see me undress."
I took THAT as a cue to leave.
So I go out this door and end up in this futuristic outdoor jungle auditorium. They were people everywhere chatting at their seats and anxiously waiting for none other than...Etahan Hawke to speak. My family was there. My sis, my neices, my nephew, my brothers, and my cousin. They looked happy to see Ethan Hawke speak. I have no idea why, but they were enjoying themselves. Then things started to get back. I think I was working the show cause I was able to go backstage and walk around as I pleased. But it got scary cause every person I walked by had a knife and they would smile while they were trying to poke me. It was like a big joke and I was terrified. I got so frustrated that I walked up on stage and threw a chair. Everybody paused then started laughing. They pulled out their knives and started coming at me slowly still laughing and giggling. I knew they weren't really gonna stab me, but I didn't know why they were fucking with me so much.
Your probably reading this and wondering how I can call this a nightmare. That was only the begining. This when things went really bad.
I jumped off the stage and ran to the back. And out of nowhere approached the badass himself Samuel L. Jackson. We bullshited for a minute and he told me how much he appreciated me being in the Army and once again protecting the people of Vietnam.
"Vietnam!?"
Just then I noticed that I was in uniform. And then, without any prior warnings, rockets hit the grounds. Fire poured from the sky hitting and scattering bodies everywhere. Blood splattered on my face, and the heat from teh blasts charred my arm. It felt so real. It was so loud I couldn't think. I just so innocent lives being wiped away. I looked for my family, but they were already done. So I scooped up an M-16 I saw laying on the ground and returned fire to the chopper that was shooting the rockets. It was no good, my other allies fell at the waistside and I was next. The doors to the backstage had some kind of emergency recognition, because time the fire got too high, doors started closing. Big cold metal ones. I wasn't fast enough. And the rockets got me too.
I didn't sleep the next day. I was too scared. What grown man is so scared of a nightmare that he doesn't sleep? Before my deployment I had maybe 3 nightmares a year. Since October of last year I've had about 17. I don't know why I'm being tortured. I treat people well and work hard to get through the day. I don't know what this shit is supposed to fucking teach me. For once I want something to be easy. It's hard to survive. And I'm getting really tired. And I'm alone. Fighting alone all by myself. All by myself...
So I had a nightmare last weekend. I'll start from the begining
The dream starts with me in a dressing room with world famous Brazilian model Giesle. She's changing into this silky silver dress as I sit there and watch. Every inch of her figure was of scale size. I have no idea how my mind did it, but it did. I was very proud of myself. So I took the little show as a cue that she was interested in me. I mean she didn't tell me to turn my head or get out right?
"You got the kind of beauty that Goddesses wish for"
"Wow you got the words little kid, but what kind of jeans are you wearing?"
"American Eagle why"
"I only date men who wear Diesel"
"What? I just sat here and watched you undress"
"I'm a model hunny lots of people see me undress."
I took THAT as a cue to leave.
So I go out this door and end up in this futuristic outdoor jungle auditorium. They were people everywhere chatting at their seats and anxiously waiting for none other than...Etahan Hawke to speak. My family was there. My sis, my neices, my nephew, my brothers, and my cousin. They looked happy to see Ethan Hawke speak. I have no idea why, but they were enjoying themselves. Then things started to get back. I think I was working the show cause I was able to go backstage and walk around as I pleased. But it got scary cause every person I walked by had a knife and they would smile while they were trying to poke me. It was like a big joke and I was terrified. I got so frustrated that I walked up on stage and threw a chair. Everybody paused then started laughing. They pulled out their knives and started coming at me slowly still laughing and giggling. I knew they weren't really gonna stab me, but I didn't know why they were fucking with me so much.
Your probably reading this and wondering how I can call this a nightmare. That was only the begining. This when things went really bad.
I jumped off the stage and ran to the back. And out of nowhere approached the badass himself Samuel L. Jackson. We bullshited for a minute and he told me how much he appreciated me being in the Army and once again protecting the people of Vietnam.
"Vietnam!?"
Just then I noticed that I was in uniform. And then, without any prior warnings, rockets hit the grounds. Fire poured from the sky hitting and scattering bodies everywhere. Blood splattered on my face, and the heat from teh blasts charred my arm. It felt so real. It was so loud I couldn't think. I just so innocent lives being wiped away. I looked for my family, but they were already done. So I scooped up an M-16 I saw laying on the ground and returned fire to the chopper that was shooting the rockets. It was no good, my other allies fell at the waistside and I was next. The doors to the backstage had some kind of emergency recognition, because time the fire got too high, doors started closing. Big cold metal ones. I wasn't fast enough. And the rockets got me too.
I didn't sleep the next day. I was too scared. What grown man is so scared of a nightmare that he doesn't sleep? Before my deployment I had maybe 3 nightmares a year. Since October of last year I've had about 17. I don't know why I'm being tortured. I treat people well and work hard to get through the day. I don't know what this shit is supposed to fucking teach me. For once I want something to be easy. It's hard to survive. And I'm getting really tired. And I'm alone. Fighting alone all by myself. All by myself...