Dream Eater
What a good band, I should be listening to them throughout this post. Anyway, I had a REALLY fucked up dream. I want you bitches to read it and interpret it for me. If anyone here is a tarot card reading mystic or you know anyone who is, please redirect them here, lmfao.
I was on the phone with Jenny, when she sent me an urgent fax. I went downstairs, near the front door, where the fax machine is located. Well, it went to the other corner of the room and the fax paper that displayed was the sort of paper you used in second grade to practice your print; that is, the not fully white paper, which had lines like twenty feet tall. The colour of the marker was, of course, red.
The fax was perplexing and I did not really understand it, so I went back upstairs to discuss it with her. She was like, "Are you kidding?", then started deconstructing it for me. I approached my television and I was thrown back. Initially, I thought I did it myself, because sometimes I pretend to be drunk, possessed, et cetera, to annoy my family. Then, this spectre continuously throws me back against my door and I charge at him[it?], but he ejects me all across my room. I go matrix on his ass and start fighting back. When I defeated him, another spectre appeared in my closet, who radiated this like...haunting, but beautiful, incandscent light. He wailed like a fucking banshee and someone in my house was like, "THAT'S A REAL GHOST! GTF OUTTTTTTTTTTTTttttttttt." Thanks family, for protecting me from the spirit. Subsequently, this ghost suspended me above the closet and started choking me, I think. When you awake from dreams, you gradually begin to remember them.
Which brings me to another part of my dream, which I am not confident whether it occurred before or after the fax. I have concluded it was preceding the fax, because it can be explained by the ghosts. Each time my mother came in my room and I entered, there would be these large [forty-eight ounces, at least] bottles of like hawaiian punch or nestea[is the bestea for me]. I kept inquiring to my mother, "WHO IS PUTTING THIS SHIT HERE! IT MUST BE YASEMIN."
I can attribute a few of these objects to symbols;
My mother complaining about the bottles potentially staining my bed: my mother fucking complains about the least trivial thigns and has no sense of logic/respect for the laws of thermodynamics. For example, she wanted me, the other day, to open my door and let my air-conditioner cool the ENTIRE upstairs. Like wtf, install your own air conditioner and THEN maybe will I consider opening my door.
The spectre in my closet: Recently, I have been losing my fucking underwear, haha. It is probably somewhere in the basement, so I should do my laundry [which I was just doing]. Consequently, I ascribe my underwear shortage to the underwear monster, who works in conjunction with the towel monster in my house. The towel monster is so persistent, because he ALWAYS fucks up the towels in my hallway. I swear, when I find his undead ass, I will slice his cadaver into a thousand partitions.
The spectre throwing me around my room: the Matrix's special effects were too much.
Jenny on the phone: THAT IS THE FUCKED UP PART, LMAO. I did not want to tell her, for I believed she would think me crazy.
(12:31:20) Jenny: :(
(12:31:23) Jenny: im such a bitch
Remarks, anyone?
I was on the phone with Jenny, when she sent me an urgent fax. I went downstairs, near the front door, where the fax machine is located. Well, it went to the other corner of the room and the fax paper that displayed was the sort of paper you used in second grade to practice your print; that is, the not fully white paper, which had lines like twenty feet tall. The colour of the marker was, of course, red.
The fax was perplexing and I did not really understand it, so I went back upstairs to discuss it with her. She was like, "Are you kidding?", then started deconstructing it for me. I approached my television and I was thrown back. Initially, I thought I did it myself, because sometimes I pretend to be drunk, possessed, et cetera, to annoy my family. Then, this spectre continuously throws me back against my door and I charge at him[it?], but he ejects me all across my room. I go matrix on his ass and start fighting back. When I defeated him, another spectre appeared in my closet, who radiated this like...haunting, but beautiful, incandscent light. He wailed like a fucking banshee and someone in my house was like, "THAT'S A REAL GHOST! GTF OUTTTTTTTTTTTTttttttttt." Thanks family, for protecting me from the spirit. Subsequently, this ghost suspended me above the closet and started choking me, I think. When you awake from dreams, you gradually begin to remember them.
Which brings me to another part of my dream, which I am not confident whether it occurred before or after the fax. I have concluded it was preceding the fax, because it can be explained by the ghosts. Each time my mother came in my room and I entered, there would be these large [forty-eight ounces, at least] bottles of like hawaiian punch or nestea[is the bestea for me]. I kept inquiring to my mother, "WHO IS PUTTING THIS SHIT HERE! IT MUST BE YASEMIN."
I can attribute a few of these objects to symbols;
My mother complaining about the bottles potentially staining my bed: my mother fucking complains about the least trivial thigns and has no sense of logic/respect for the laws of thermodynamics. For example, she wanted me, the other day, to open my door and let my air-conditioner cool the ENTIRE upstairs. Like wtf, install your own air conditioner and THEN maybe will I consider opening my door.
The spectre in my closet: Recently, I have been losing my fucking underwear, haha. It is probably somewhere in the basement, so I should do my laundry [which I was just doing]. Consequently, I ascribe my underwear shortage to the underwear monster, who works in conjunction with the towel monster in my house. The towel monster is so persistent, because he ALWAYS fucks up the towels in my hallway. I swear, when I find his undead ass, I will slice his cadaver into a thousand partitions.
The spectre throwing me around my room: the Matrix's special effects were too much.
Jenny on the phone: THAT IS THE FUCKED UP PART, LMAO. I did not want to tell her, for I believed she would think me crazy.
(12:31:20) Jenny: :(
(12:31:23) Jenny: im such a bitch
Remarks, anyone?