Basically I lived in a community, that lived in a field in tents (kind of like Download only without music), and at the side of this field was this big mansion where we would all commune in the evenings, and I lived with people that I hardly see or have never even met, although I do remember Karin being in the first part of the dream, and running with me
The first part of the dream didn't really freak me out, but well let's just say there were tigers and I had to run into the mansion to stop them from mauling me in my tent at night
But the main bit that freaked me out was the fact that every day at a different time, I would randomly pass out and wake up in this warehouse, because some guy who I work with (in real life) had kidnapped me somehow, and I would have to do a task to get out. It was like a cross between Pat Sharp's Fun House and the movie Saw. I couldn't look at my colleague straight today...
Like in this one instance I was in said warehouse and along the side walls there was like little houses and shops, and a big water mill at the back and every so often this cloudy bluey green water would come flowing out at me and settle, then come rushing out again, and I would be struggling and choking on the water. And I could hear his voice telling me I had to escape, but it just made me struggle even more
I'm not too sure about how I got out of that. I must have done somehow though, because the last thing about the dream I remember was trying to re-dye my hair, and the brown layer turning blond, and the blond layer turning brown, and then there being a ginger layer in between the two so I looked like a tiger. I was looking in this mirror trying to smooth this bucket of dye through my hair and crying because it was all going wrong. And then I ran into my bedroom, and my bath was where my bed should be, then I was frantically trying to empty my bath of toys and bras and stuff, so I could get the dye out of hair quickly
I have to say it's up there with the weirdest dreams I've ever had. I wish it I knew what it meant. And don't suggest that it means I'm crazy because that's pretty much a given!!
Friday, 22 June 2007
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Fuck it all in the arse
As each day passes I get the increasing feeling that nobody actually gives a fuck about anyone except themselves, and that perhaps I let people walk over me a little too much. I'm always the first to lend a shoulder to cry on, a fiver to the person in need, an ear for the general complaints. But I'm noticing more and more that this is not as reciprocated as I always thought it was.
I have to just clear things up first. My girls are not included in this. They are my rocks, and without them I would be surely lost. And even though I tend not to ask for the shoulder, the fiver, the ear, I know it would be there if I ever did need/want it.
Unfortunately I perhaps have been a little too generous, and my resources are becoming more and more limited. Not only is it tiresome always being there for everybody, but I have no evidence to show that other people would do the same for me. Even with people I have never met, I seem to care about them, which is absolute bullshit. A point which is becoming evermore clear with every passing second.
I can't seem to decide whether it is other people who have changed, becoming more demanding with their little problems and peeves, or whether it is I, maybe becoming more wise to the ulterior motives and duplicity - or maybe I'm just becoming more cynical with age. It's impossible to tell, and improbable that I will ever know.
This past week has pointed out to me more than ever that there is nothing left for me here. Every few years I go through a phase. Maybe it's boredom, I can't be sure, but I get the urge to change every little thing in my life. I change my hair, my job, it even goes as far as my circle of friends. Unfortunately all of these changes have already been made within the last year and there is nowhere left for me to run. Which is essentially what it all boils down to. Escapism.
The only word I can use to describe my life right now is stale. I open my eyes in the morning, same room. I walk out my front door, same council estate. I go to work, same dead end job. I go out at night, same old assholes frequenting the same old bars drinking the same old whiskey, playing the same old music. I come home drunk, the fight to get my key in the front door, search for the landing light, the old lumpy bed. I could go on and on and on, just like every other damn thing that ceases to change in my life.
I plan to run away. Start afresh. New sights, new smells, new people. My only fear right now is what if those too become stale. Then what do I have left? Come back to my past stale life, stay in the present stale life, or keep running, in the hope that I finally end up somewhere right for me.
So back to my original point. I made a decision this evening. After taking a sip from the same old Jack Daniels, and sitting by the same old phone, waiting for the same old friends (who manage to let me down every time no matter how much I bust my ass to keep them happy) - the same old disappointment. I decided to fuck it all. Why should I always put my neck on the line to make sure that everyone else is happy, when no other fucker can bother their arse for me? I always have this front, this bravado, this act like I don't give a fuck. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I care too much. Yet another thing I can never be sure of.
Kears once said to me that most writers have a fear of leaving their work unconcluded, and that I have a tendency to leave my work in it's unfinished state. I agree to a certain extent. But I also disagree. In this world I really find it hard to be certain of anything at all. You never know what is going to happen from day to day. So maybe my disconlcusion, is actually a conclusion in disguise. My lack of being able to finish things off, is simply just because I don't believe you can ever conclude anything. It's like the eternal search for happiness. When you finally achieve true happiness, what have you left to strive for? What have you got left to work towards when you've achieved all your goals? (and yes I do realise I may have just made a few words up there, but fuck that too).
If only I could figure out what it is I am striving for in the first place, then I'd perhaps know where it is I am heading.
I have to just clear things up first. My girls are not included in this. They are my rocks, and without them I would be surely lost. And even though I tend not to ask for the shoulder, the fiver, the ear, I know it would be there if I ever did need/want it.
Unfortunately I perhaps have been a little too generous, and my resources are becoming more and more limited. Not only is it tiresome always being there for everybody, but I have no evidence to show that other people would do the same for me. Even with people I have never met, I seem to care about them, which is absolute bullshit. A point which is becoming evermore clear with every passing second.
I can't seem to decide whether it is other people who have changed, becoming more demanding with their little problems and peeves, or whether it is I, maybe becoming more wise to the ulterior motives and duplicity - or maybe I'm just becoming more cynical with age. It's impossible to tell, and improbable that I will ever know.
This past week has pointed out to me more than ever that there is nothing left for me here. Every few years I go through a phase. Maybe it's boredom, I can't be sure, but I get the urge to change every little thing in my life. I change my hair, my job, it even goes as far as my circle of friends. Unfortunately all of these changes have already been made within the last year and there is nowhere left for me to run. Which is essentially what it all boils down to. Escapism.
The only word I can use to describe my life right now is stale. I open my eyes in the morning, same room. I walk out my front door, same council estate. I go to work, same dead end job. I go out at night, same old assholes frequenting the same old bars drinking the same old whiskey, playing the same old music. I come home drunk, the fight to get my key in the front door, search for the landing light, the old lumpy bed. I could go on and on and on, just like every other damn thing that ceases to change in my life.
I plan to run away. Start afresh. New sights, new smells, new people. My only fear right now is what if those too become stale. Then what do I have left? Come back to my past stale life, stay in the present stale life, or keep running, in the hope that I finally end up somewhere right for me.
So back to my original point. I made a decision this evening. After taking a sip from the same old Jack Daniels, and sitting by the same old phone, waiting for the same old friends (who manage to let me down every time no matter how much I bust my ass to keep them happy) - the same old disappointment. I decided to fuck it all. Why should I always put my neck on the line to make sure that everyone else is happy, when no other fucker can bother their arse for me? I always have this front, this bravado, this act like I don't give a fuck. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I care too much. Yet another thing I can never be sure of.
Kears once said to me that most writers have a fear of leaving their work unconcluded, and that I have a tendency to leave my work in it's unfinished state. I agree to a certain extent. But I also disagree. In this world I really find it hard to be certain of anything at all. You never know what is going to happen from day to day. So maybe my disconlcusion, is actually a conclusion in disguise. My lack of being able to finish things off, is simply just because I don't believe you can ever conclude anything. It's like the eternal search for happiness. When you finally achieve true happiness, what have you left to strive for? What have you got left to work towards when you've achieved all your goals? (and yes I do realise I may have just made a few words up there, but fuck that too).
If only I could figure out what it is I am striving for in the first place, then I'd perhaps know where it is I am heading.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
