✫ // dream journal

[emblo]

As someone who is fascinated with what our brains conjure while we're asleep,
I have always enjoyed dreaming. The weird and convoluted actions we take
while sleeping have always sparked my interest, even when they make absolu-
tely no sense. Especially when they make absolutely no sense. Because of this,
I'm going to record at least some of my dreams. I did so briefly in the past, but
that was over two years ago and I would like to start clean. Please do not think
that what happens in my dreams accurately depicts me as an individual. If Rus-
sia is some crazy, lying, communist society in my dream, it does not mean that
I really think harshly of Russia. I am not going to try to write my best, as this is
just something enjoyable to do in my spare time. Please, do not post. Feel free
to message me with any questions, comments, or concerns.

[emblo]

6/09/2017 ✫ China is my new home


The dream began with a video. Although it was a video I knew I was watching on my phone, it took up my entire line of sight, as though I was watching it in person. The video took place in China, on a very small and very busy dirt road. There were two narrow lines of traffic, the right side coming towards the camera angle, and the left heading away. However, at this moment, there was no traffic heading away, so a large semi-truck decided to speed up and pass the car in front of it. Just as it was pulling up alongside the other car, a biker appeared in that lane. Although I was only supposed to be an onlooker, I thought something like 'oh, well, the truck will move onto its correct lane and I won't get hit.' This was not the case. The truck continued forth at its same speed.

As soon as the truck collided with the biker, an inevitable fate, as for some reason heading into the grass was not an option, I was that biker. I felt the collision, with no pain, and the next sensation was my body sitting in the grass. No big deal, I just got up. The traffic that had previously clogged the road was no more, and I could look around freely, as it was no longer a video. The car that the truck was going to pass was now another bicycle, only this one carried a shell of wicker that made it appear vaguely like the shape of a car. As though I had not just been hit by a truck, I crossed the tiny road, now hardly big enough for a bike.

The woman who had been riding the car-bike stopped for a moment to apologize about the truck, though I can't remember why, then began riding in the opposite direction that I started to walk in. I lived here now. I lived in China. I was okay with this, apparently. Before I could walk far, I was standing back with the same Asian woman. We had a conversation about the United States compared to China. She had lived in both for quite some time, and while she liked China more, she said that the United States wasn't bad either. The only downside to China, according to her, was that it had no air conditioning, so it was very hot inside the houses and she would wake up very sweaty. Today, it was nice outside though, with a slight breeze. Makes sense, an entire county doesn't have air conditioning, and I knew this. In response, I told her that I had not lived in China for long enough to properly distinguish between the two countries and decide which I liked more.

Next thing I know, she's gone, and I'm walking down that little road. I can see both ahead of me and behind me, where the woman was riding away on her bike, at the same time. I look around to take in the surroundings of my new home. There are several large tortoise shells scattered around on the side of the road in the grass. There is no longer a single car on the road and although I don't remember seeing it, I knew there were small buildings just up ahead. A dark, terrifying feeling crept over me as I approached one of the shells, the same feeling that I normally get when one of my dreams morphs itself into a nightmare. It's so intense that I can faintly hear the fear, feel it in my skin. It's like a slow, erratic heartbeat. Very faintly, I can feel my body as it lies in bed, as though I'm prepared to wake myself up the second this dream turns sour. I'm afraid these tortoises were killed and I will find the mangled remains of their corpses, a sorrowful and disgusting sight. I reach one of the shells, which is at least several feet from the belly of the shell to the top, and bend to look inside.

Empty. It's just the shell. No mangled corpse, not even any other bones. The terrible feeling starts to fade away, as does the odd duel sensation of both dreaming and laying. I continue walking, another few shells up ahead, but now I know nothing terrible lies within them. I'm no longer scared.

Out of nowhere, I am now sitting in class, on the ground. There are no chairs or tables, only the carpet. I'm still in China. The class has a notebook due, where we have to compile all of our work from the semester and turn it in. I had a high A in the class, but I still want to get a good grade on the assignment, even though it doesn't really matter. I have my binder and papers all out in front of me, most of what the teacher was going to be checking already in there. I only needed one more paper, but I can't find it. I flipped through the pages several times, but it is not in there.

All false memories. I recalled each and every paper that was in there, as if it was an actual class that I had actually been taking for an entire semester. But that one damn paper...I needed it. It was a lab paper, something on cats and flowers, which definitely made sense at the time. I found the paper that I started the assignment on, which had the instructions, but I had done most the writing on a separate piece of paper. I wouldn't get full credit if I turned it in like this. So, I began redoing it, filling in the little boxes where the answers would go. There were two other classmates beside me, both female, both copying the answers that I wrote, as they had never done the assignment. Lazy gals, but I didn't care.

I was then somewhere else in the classroom, still on the floor. My binder was in front of me, but closed. Perhaps I had finished? Who knows. The teacher, whom had the appearance of my college algebra professor but I knew it wasn't, was standing over me. He looked impossibly tall, now the only figure in my vision. Everything else went dark. He was also an ass, simply stating "Isn't this fitting, ending the year how we started off, with me standing over you." No, it wasn't. Even in my dream, it didn't quite make sense. I didn't reply.

And then I was back in my own room. It was in China, although it was positioned just like the one in my own country. There was something...odd about it. There was desk where I normally had a cage, no bookshelves, not even a bed. I couldn't see the full room, only where I was focusing. Everything was empty. The walls, most of the closet. I didn't care, even though I knew this was different. It was probably because I was in China, not my childhood home.

I had school work on the desk, several papers. There was also a girl with me, one of my classmates from the same class, though I never got a look at her face. There was a face there, and I saw it...but I never saw it. I had the same lab paper, the one about cats and flowers. I was finishing it. In my closet were several bouquets. I made a comment to my classmate how I thought it was funny that they were all several years old. Even with the large span of time, they were hardly wilted. Totally normal.

The lab paper needed an example of one of the plants that I wrote about, that I just so happen to have in one of the flower bouquets. It was not the actual flower, but instead one of the plants they used to decorate the arrangement with between the flowers. I told the girl that there was more in the closet for her paper, if she wanted it. The plant was partially stapled onto the paper, but it needed another. I could do it with my finger, I knew that. That's how I stapled the other part. Me and the girl laughed about how some idiotic people use a stapler to staple things, instead of simply using their finger. What a waste of time, energy, and money.

I tried to staple it, but my nail, where the staple was suppose to come out, kept bending. What a pain. I was afraid I would break it. I asked her my classmate to do it, and she complied, although no staple was ever inserted into the paper. she acted like it was. Oh well, I decided it wasn't needed after all. The plant would remain on the paper with only the one.



I jumped into a video and moved to China, where I was hit by a truck and spoke with a nice Asian woman. I feared these tortoises had been killed, but never found out as they were only shells. My school anxiety dreams return as I am forced back into the terrible setting, completely a lab on cats and flowers while sitting on the floor with a couple of cheating classmates. My professor is an ass, then I teleport home, where I staple plants on a paper with my finger using bouquets that are several years old.

[emblo]

6/10/2017 ✫ I love my talking military dog


It started off with me at my grandmother's house. I was in her garage, which was empty, with her and my two younger siblings. Although I was standing there, I could see a small river across her street (where the ocean would normally be). The river had almost dried up, the muddy ground visible with only small patches of water. My grandma was saying how they should open up a tubing business along it, where people could rent tubes, float down, and be driven back. At first, this seemed completely logical. However, I was against the idea, as that would bring more people to the river and it wouldn't be as fun when we went ourselves.

Then, finally, I realized that would be a very bad business decision, since part of the year the river was as it was now, all dried up. I made this point to her and she agreed. Nevertheless, we decided to go tubing, and had several of them already blown up and ready to go.

But then I was in her backyard, watching my young cousin walk around in the grass. He was heading around the side of the house so I knew I had to grab him. Although he looked nothing like my cousin, I knew it was him. After snatching him up, I held him on my hip and began walking towards the back door to go inside. Somewhere along the way, he was reduced to just an infant, and I was cradling him in my arms instead. The young child was falling asleep, his hand at my neck and pinching my skin (he does this in real life when he is tired). He was also sucking on the inside of my arm like a pacifier, which hurt a hell of a lot more than it should of.

I moved his head so that he could not do this and lied him on the couch to sleep. Even though I just did this, he was back in my arms a moment later, and my grandma was placing a folded blanket down on the end of the couch. My cousin was even younger now, and I placed him on the blanket. The cloth envelops him and covers his head and part of his body. I pick him back up and set him down again to fix this. The process repeated itself several times, much to my irksome dismay. My grandpa helps hold the blanket down, and it finally works.

I was suddenly back in the garage, standing with my boyfriend, whom I had just been texting. I didn't have my phone anywhere, but I had been texting him with it. I had agreed to go to the movies with him at five, even though I had already planned on going to the river with my family. I decided I would just tell my grandma I had other plans. I asked my boyfriend what we were going to see, but he didn't know. As there were many, many movies starting at five, this didn't seem to matter, but I continued asking. We had just seen a movie the day before (in real life) and it had been the only one that looked enjoyable. Nothing else that we knew about seemed good. I never told my grandma about my altered plans, since it never came up.

Next thing I knew, we were all rollerblading super fast in the road. Quite comical, as my boyfriend doesn't know how. We were going at dangerously fast speeds, but it was fun, so this didn't matter. I was invincible. We would go up the steep driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac, then down the road and back again. The road was a single line, never parting off, and eventually ended up in the forest. Although the road became gravel, it was still a breeze to travel over. After turning around, now on the street in my own neighborhood, my boyfriend decided to do a flip. I knew he couldn't land it, and a sense of fear washed over me, but when I saw he was safely in the grass, I continued on. He was fine, thankfully. Stupid, but fine.

I continued down the road, now back on my grandmother's street, and decided to roll up the same driveway at the end of the street. I was still going very fast, the slope not slowing me down at all, and I thought I was going to collide with the closed garage. I put arms up for the impact, but it never came. Just before I was going to hit, I was turned around and was heading right back down the driveway with the same amount of momentum. I thought it was odd, but I didn't pay it much mind.

Suddenly a bit scared of the high speeds, I decided to just allow myself to roll down the road on my roller blades, not picking up my feet to move quicker. Briefly, I was back on the street in my own neighborhood. My boyfriend passed me, bragging that he was going faster, but I told him I wasn't trying. I wanted to see how far I could go. My younger sister and grandmother also passed me.

As I continued down the road, it formed into the same gravel road in the forest. There was a small segment of brick wall, which I stopped at. Beyond it was a large field with military equipment including a tank, several large guns, a few German Shepards, and several uniformed men. They had a German Shepard that looked very similar to the one I used to own (never had one in my life). This was very suspicious to me, as my dog had run away while I was camping in an area around here.

I watched them from the other side of the brick wall, three other people next to me. What were they even doing in a place like this? One of the men began approaching the spot I was at, and I turned around and fled. On the way back to my grandma's house, I told the people I was with (I no longer knew who they were) about the dog I used to have. They had similar storied with loved ones and pets going missing around this area.

Briefly, I was back at the wall. The man asked if I wanted to join the military. I declined, but he continued to push the idea and followed me as I began back towards the house. I didn't want him to somehow brainwash me into joining, as something suspicious was definitely going on. I wasn't sure how to keep them away from me and my family. I had the answer: everyone needed to make sure they used bright, obnoxious colors while drawing in chickensmoothie's oekaki. Made sense, but it wouldn't work for the moment.

I was then back at my grandma's house, by her front door. My mom was sitting on the cement there, with a very strange, large, white bug in front of her. It had a thin body with long legs. It was still alive and moving around, but didn't seem to be attempting an escape. My mom talked about it, saying how she thinks the bug has something to do with the disappearances and the military, as though they were using them to control people. She then squishes the bug with the bottom of her shoe, though she was still sitting in a way that would make this impossible.

She points to a smaller, darker bug by the white one. I had not noticed that it was there. She was only speaking about the darker one, so I asked her why she had chosen to kill the white one. She said it was just because she thought I would enjoy having such a bug. I would not. It turns out the white bug was not dead, but suffering from the smash, so I told her to kill it. She took a stick and started jabbing it. The bug now looked more like a worm. Whatever.

My mom then moved on to a different topic, still sitting on the ground. She explained how she doesn't think my grandpa was really my grandpa because he was acting strange. Just then, he opens the front door and I try to kick him in the face with my roller blade. He backed up before I was able to. I walk inside, no longer wearing roller blades, and begin questioning him. I don't remember what I asked, but it was decided that it was really him. My mom was wrong. Although, he was a lot nicer in my dream that he is in real life.

Inside, some of my family was there. In the dining room, on one of the chairs, was my dog. The dog that had run away and was stolen by the military. Only, now he was a very fluffy Golden Lab, instead of a German Shepard. At one point, he was also a small lion. He was indeed my dog...but I was scared of him. I was scared that the military had done something to him, or that they had replaced him with a lookalike. All of the stolen loved ones and pets had been returned because I had found them in that field.

Nonetheless, I wanted to love him. I had missed him for so long. Sitting on the ground next to the chair he was in, I ran my hands through his fur. Somehow, he had swallowed two talking birds, a red one and a yellow one. He did this so that they could not speak the truth about what happened concerning the military. I saw down his throat, although his mouth was closed, and the two birds poked their heads out from his stomach. They were still very much alive, unharmed. My sweet pup would never hurt them.

I was still petting my dog when he suddenly pulled me closer with his large paws, wrapping them around my upper back. He simply whispered "I love you." I start to tear up and hug him back. Somehow, this told me that this really was my dog, and not some lookalike. I was overjoyed.

I tell him that he must let the birds out, so that they can tell us what happened. Turns out, the military was taking these people and dogs, but they were still very much themselves. The only reason they acted so strange after they were let go was because they were forced not to tell anyone what happened. My dog broke this chain of individuals too terrified to speak out. I was so proud of him, but I knew that this would put him in danger. Getting up, I begin walking out of the house, my dog by my side. "Let's stop this [crap]."



I was going to try to tube in a dried up river, but I had to put my shrinking cousin to sleep. My boyfriend showed up and went rollerblading with my family and I at inhuman speeds. I discovered a military sector that was stealing loved ones, including my breed-changing dog. My mom killed an innocent bug and I almost kicked my grandpa in the face. My talking dog returns home and swallows two birds, who can also talk. He loved me and I love him, so we vow to stop these cruel military actions.

[emblo]

6/10/2017 ✫ 3 unrelated misunderstandings


I was standing on the shore with some guy beside me. I was looking out at the ocean, but I could not actually see anything but the fireflies over the water. I could not look around, so I did not know who the male figure was. He began talking as though carrying out a conversation that we had been having. "There are three things that you don't understand: Temperature, understanding, and aroma."

[emblo]

6/09/2017 ✫ What the hell, Russia?


Ahhh, welcome back old school anxiety dreams. I haven't had you in so long, and now you curse me with two in a single night?

This was somewhat a continuation of my China dream. Same sort of predicament, just a different country. It was a new school year (rip I thought I was graduated) and the first class of the day had just ended. Everyone else had left the room except the teacher, one other student, and myself. For some reason, I decided to pull down the projector screen, which was very small. There was an odd looking map in its place. It didn't take me long to realize it looked so odd because all of the countries were in different locations, as well as being incorrect shapes and sizes. Russia took up at least half of the world. Along with this, all the county's edges were very boxy, and the oceans were very small. One of the oceans was in the shape of South America.

I tell the other student that this is all wrong. She seems skeptical, but listens. I point out the correct locations of several countries, the ones that I could remember off the top of my head: United States, Canada, Mexico, Hawaiian islands, Cuba, China, and Russia. The teacher asks about the continents, so I explain those as well, indicating their spaces on the map. Although the teacher never agreed with what I saying, she was trying to get me to say more. According to her knowing look, she knew I was right. The student, on the other hand, was very confused.

It occurred to me that Russia was teaching their citizens this false information. It made me wonder what other lies they were teaching, if they were showing something so seemingly menial as a map as such. The teacher came from elsewhere, but she knew she would get into trouble if she taught the correct geographies. Which meant that I was the one in danger. In my mind, one of the administrators was speaking to me. They already knew of my mistake, as well as my name, scolding me about my me "teaching country-hating [crap]" Although I knew that I would only get in more trouble, I decided right then and there that I was going to continue to spread the truth. If I was already in peril for something so simple, why not ramp it up, have some fun, cause some chaos?

I was then out in the hall. Time for second period. Only...I had no idea where it was. Oh dear. There were students' name posted on a piece of paper outside of each classroom, indicating who was in that class, so all of the students had to frantically run around in search of their names. At first, it was a longer list, maybe 10 names, but as time went on and I searched for my name, this went down to only two or three names per class.

Meanwhile, special students were walking around screaming and yelling like they were the bell. There was several of them, all with different pitches, all just as obnoxious. This was completely normal in Russia. The noise was almost too much. It was the only thing I could think about and it caused a terrible ringing in my ears. I couldn't find my class. The time to get to the room was over, so the student bells stopped their noise-making.

If any student missed entering their classroom before this time, they had to wait by the door when they finally did find it, so that they did not interrupt the class by opening the door. Several student did this and were waiting in the halls, so there wasn't as many kids as before. They had to remain there until someone who was on time opened the door to leave, but they could not open it solely to let the other students in. It had to be for their own reason, like going to the bathroom. One of the students did this, so one of the males waiting outside of the classroom entered.

No matter how hard I searched, I could not find my class. Although there were doors and stairs leading to other hallways, I remained in the same one, as had all the other students. Small school, I suppose. I recalled getting a schedule when I first joined the school, handed to me by the same administrator that had spoken to me thought my thoughts. I pulled it out of my backpack, which I had previously not been wearing. Instead of a piece of paper, it was a rugged piece of cloth, with white paint that said "dining hall."

It seemed odd that dinner would come right after first period, but I wasn't going to argue. I approached one of the students that was waiting outside of his classroom to ask where the dining hall was, and he pointed to a large opening that I had not seen before. Down the stairs. I thanked him and headed in that direction. Through the opening in an entire opera house, dark with no lights on, and a single piano on the upper level that was connected with the hallway I was on. There was also a small spiral staircase, which I took.

They led directly to the dining hall line, which had curved white counters where you would choose your food. At the end, there was a woman standing at a cash register. There was no food to take, so I walked along the counter towards her. Clearly angry and full of detestation, she simply told me "We don't sell to those who hate our country."

But...I was hungry. Okay, no food. I walked away and sat by myself at one of the tables. I wasn't too sure what to do. I wanted food, but I knew that they would not sell it to me. A female student kept watching me, and I could see her even though I was not looking in her direction. She seemed excited. A few moments later, she came over and sat next to me, as did a few other kids. They were interested in the new student: me.

As the other students were talking, I was still thinking about how I was going to get food. In my hand, I had my monkey-faced change purse, filled with money. In the other cafeteria room, connected by a wide opening, there were vending machines. I thought they might sell food, but upon closer inspection, I realized that they did not. The one sold rubber bands and the other sold fidget spinners. A male student had just purchased one of the latter.

Returning my attention to the students I was sitting with, I realized that they had been asking why I hadn't bought or brought anything to eat. With a full-blown rebellion in mind, I was going to tell them.



Another school dream, only this time in Russia. The crazy, communist country taught its citizens false information and punished anyone who went against these lies, myself being one of them. They had students screaming like they were bells and full opera houses in their schools, causing chaos as students attempted to find their classrooms. Angry that they would not sell me food, and also that the bogus school would sell fidget spinners in their vending machines, I planned to start a revolt, riding on my popularity as a new kid.

[emblo]

7/03/2017 ✫ Weed can get you frozen


I was a criminal. How exciting. I sold marijuana in places where it was illegal, packaging it in little clear, plastic bags. I was walking along my small rows of plants, except these were parsley instead of my product. What a cheat. Sometimes I sold the real thing, while other times it was only parsley. This never happened in the dream, but I recalled it occurring like any other real memory. The plants I was walking by looked like neither of these two. I was with someone else, one of my accomplices, but I don't recall who.

Oh, well there goes my business. I had gotten caught, punished with 15-20 years in jail. It seemed harsh; I would be almost 40 by the time I got out. The cops were super chill about it. The jail was at the very top of a high-rise building, only one room. I was with three other people I knew, all who told me of their crimes. I had the longest sentence by far; they would all be released before me. Where we sat was very like one of the rooms in the Big Brother house, where the large couch slopes gradually down to meet the floor (only semi-pic I could find of it, BB fans, you should know what I'm talking about). The building's walls must have been glass, because while I could not see them, I could see the tops of the other buildings. The closest one had a small garden on its roof. Somehow, I knew that this was where I had grown my plants, even though it was not like the one that I had seen in the beginning.

I, along with the other inmates, were suddenly out. We stood on the ground next to the garden building, except now it was much lower. We were waiting for a biker gang, who worked with the police that had arrested us. Some of the guys were there, but the leader of the gang had not arrived. It took him hours to finally show up, but this time passed very strangely. Even when he did show up, he kept disappearing, and had to ride his motorcycle all the way back again.

While waiting, I had a flashback to before I had been caught. I was walking along my small parsley plants, when I had first realized that my workers were growing it instead of what we were labeling it as. I slowly made my way between the rows, nodding my head like a mob boss who had just discovered how to optimize her profits.

I was back with the bikers. The leader was finally there. The entire gang wore black, with plenty of leather (stereotypical, I know). They all did tricks on their bikes, riding around and over the buildings, some jumping between the two and doing flips, all for the enjoyment of the inmates. Why? I have no idea. Couldn't we all just run away? Yeah, but they were treating us so well. Maybe 15-20 years wouldn't be so bad.

So much for the bikers. I was now in some room with a male friend. There was a list of movies and I needed to write a paper on one of them in order to graduate high school (I've already graduated). I was looking over the films, which just so happen to be on Netlfix, thinking of how great my paper was going to be since I would have all this free time in jail. I could reread it over and over again and make it perfect. The biker leader, who just so happened to also be the jail director, was also there. He said he could hook us up and take us to any movie we wanted to see. He seemed eager to be liked. My friend wanted to see this children's movie about animated dinosaurs, and the director was quick to again mention that he would let us see it. They were both very serious about it. I knew it was not the correct movie for the paper, and tried to explain this, but I was very quick to just say to hell with this. I no longer cared.

Once again, things shifted. The next thing I remembered was standing on a large bridge before the sun came up. The entire landscape was grey, just one, bland color. There was no variant to it; it was definitely bizarre. I pulled out my phone, having decided to take a picture of it for my snapchat story. Before I was able to, the sun had come up and changed the blank look of grey. It still appeared strange, but the oranges and yellows of the sunlight were now visible beneath the blanket of grey. My phone was gone.

The bridge was now a road and a very busy one at that. Even with the cars zipping by, there were dozens and dozens of pedestrians. Some were homeless, having set up their makeshift home of blankets and clothes on the busy road. There were people pushing odd carts, and I recall the fact that a lot happened at this location, but I couldn't quite remember what when I woke up. One thing I do recall was a fat man with a large American flag explaining something to me. It was something political I didn't quite agree with, but didn't bother to really respond.

And...I'm back in jail. This time, it was a different jail, with different people. These ones didn't like me. At all. They didn't want me there. They forced me into a room with a single bed and nothing else, turning the air to the lowest possible temperature. I couldn't get out. I never tried to, but I just knew that I was stuck. At first, I didn't take note of the temperature. I lied down on the bed with nothing else to do. I could not tell how much time was passing by, but it was a very long time. Hours, days, weeks, I had no idea. It felt like an entire lifetime.

It was getting cold. So, very cold. It was all I could think about, shivering and wishing I was anywhere but here. I had never been so cold in my entire life. As a gal from Florida, I could not handle it. I could feel my body begin to shut down. Still laying on the bed, I could feel a thin layer of ice begin to envelop me. I was going to die here.

Although my eyes were closed, I could see two people sitting behind the screen, a male and a female, watching the cameras and what was happening to me. The female seemed very worried, but the male would not allow her to help. I began to think that they were really going to leave me here, let me die in this cell.

I decided that I was going to try to escape. I sat up, breaking the ice that had formed over my body. The entire room had a layer of ice: the bed, the walls, the floor. What kind of jail allowed this to happen? On the floor was a pair a black flip-flips and white socks. I stood up and began to walk towards the door, but the floor was far too cold. I was afraid that I would hurt my feet, that the skin would stick to the ice and rip off. Gross. I gave up, because apparently this fate was worse than death. I lied back down. The ice was quick to grow over my body, which was beginning to freeze as well. It was getting difficult to move my limbs. My eyes were the only thing that were moving. I lied there for who knows how long, then finally decided to give up. I could feel my body begin to shut down. It no longer even felt cold. They were still watching me from the other room. I began to close my eyes, accepting my fate.

Just then, the woman from the other room rushed in, lowering the temperature and picking up my limp body. I was watching it from the outside, but could faintly feel it happening. As she did, the ice around me broke, but my joints still felt frozen. The man must have finally allowed her to save me, right before I died. Opening my eyes, I saw that the windows were very quickly defogging. The walls were now large glass windows, looking out onto the roof of the building. All the ice was melted. Instead of the chilling freeze, I simply felt numb.

The woman helped me stand. My movements were very slow and clumsy, and I felt as though I could not speak, though I never attempted to. I probably could have just walked out of the room, but I reasoned with myself that the people would just push me back in. Otherwise, I felt like an idiot. The man, who I expected was in charge, was yelling at the woman though some intercom, telling her what to do. I toned the majority of it out, but I did hear that he was telling her to help me exercise once I was feeling better. I was frozen for far too long, my body would need to work its way back up.

I was now back home, in my mother's bedroom's bathroom for some reason. I still could not talk or move very well. They had let me off my entire 15-20 year sentence because they had neglected me until the last possible moment. I suppose that it was worth it. My boyfriend and my mom had prepared a few things for my arrival. They were in a small basket in the corner of the bathroom, next to the tub. I knew what it was before I even saw them out of their packaging.

There was a bottle of medication, which my mother had gotten from some dealer for $300 for 50 pills. I asked what it was, but neither of them would say. While sitting there, my mind was on the internet. I could see the screen with my entire view. I researched the pills, even though I had no info whatsoever on them. I found the wiki page, which explained how the drug was made out of other pills and gunpowder from bullets. It was a very strong form of illegal pain medication. I was going to tell her that I was not in pain, it was only difficult for me to move properly, but I decided not to. She had obviously gone though a lot to get them for me. The police would allow this because of what they had done. They didn't want the information of neglect to get out to the public. It seemed that I could do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life without worry of getting in trouble with the law.

She returned the pills to the little basket, then showed me the other two things that she and my boyfriend had gotten. She showed me two plastic bags, black and opaque, besides a clear circle on the front where I could see the product inside. The one was weed, the other blue sour candy strips. I wasn't going to complain. They left me in the bathroom. I still wasn't sure why I was there in specific, sitting on the closed toilet.



I was a drug dealer who tricked my buyers into purchasing parsley. Once caught, I was given a 15-20 years in jail, where the director was very eager to please his inmates, giving them a show with his biker gang and allowing my friend and I to watch a children's dinosaur movie. I visited a empty bridge with a view of grey, which erupted with activity as soon as the sun came up. Once I returned to jail, the people hated me, forcing me into a room and freezing me. Just before I was going to die, a woman saved me and I was released from my sentence, numb and basically mute.

[emblo]

Lately I've been waking up from my dreams gasping for breath.
It's like my mind is in a pithy shock over being returned to its
normal, waking body. Just a single, quick intake of breath, eyes
flinging open. Odd, because this has never happened to me before.