Dream: March 28, 2006

I dreampt I was with one of our school's athletic teams. We were in competition for some unnamed event. It was being held at south high school, and me being a goofy klutz ended up in the wrong locker room or some how ended up in one of south's locker rooms, unbeknown how. I would like to say that each school of at least four schools was divided into two teams. Well, while I was in south's locker room I noticed the unmerciful killing of half their team. It was sort of reminiscent of the 1972 Olympics where all those Jews got killed, but I dare say Jews didn't get killed and it wasn't at the hands of the Muslims either. It was sort of set up in a Russian looking bath house, but instead of large pieces of granite, limestone, and aging marble, it was the look of Sullivan County Institutionalized Green, the sorry color scheme put in place in the 50s by SCDE to unify, or beautify, or something, but it looks sort of like baby shit green. Well to get back to my dreams, I would like to state that while at this great event in Kingsport, we all carried our Econ/Gov books from class. It seemed kind of odd seeing as how my mind labeled this as an athletic event. Back to the story, after I witnessed the unnamed killing of about 6 or so persons, I started to recall a past dream I had, or maybe it wasn't a dream, but it was as if the Metal door in the corner of the locker room, wasn't linked to a boiler room, but to a series of dusty and corroded catacombs, in which thousands upon thousands of countless souls were being enslaved into time. After escaping the killing unnoticed I sneaked out to tell my friends and anyone who could help, I told a few people and then, it seemed more like we were in a Russian Gulag, so I an and hid in an abandoned wing of the lockers, which opened up to a big large area within the lockers, which most surly isn't actually there. So I ran in there and hid to escape detection from a guard who was sitting atop a large ladder chair, similar to that of a life guard at the Bristol YMCA, the one that usually sits in the transom from pool to pool in that small unused area. Anyhow, I stole away, until the other groups started to dismiss, then I ran into Caleb and started talking to him, I wasn't caught and we neared toward a pool, maybe one in the fashion of the YMCA. Shortly after this I woke up.

I would like to add the reasoning for me posting these dreams.

1- It has come to my attention that some feel I am not right, i.e. crazy, mean, sadistic, loony, schizophrenic, sociopaths, etc.

2- I have begun to question and second-guess nearly every action or reaction cast be anyone. Whether it be a friend, family, or loved one, I take every action into consideration and weigh whether it might play into a larger scheme of things.

3- I am thinking of a career in Mental Heath, be it on myself, or me professing it to other.

4- I try and justify all of my actions into my mindset for the day, like for example I am currently working on setting up a regiment to help me get in better standings with life, and the living.

5- I was bored, and decided this would be something fun to do, regardless if someone reads them or not.

I would also like to note what I had for dinner that night, as it is commonly said an odd amount of food, or an odd food will sometimes set off unusual dreams.

I had:

2 or three regular helpings of homemade spaghetti, spread out over a 3 hour or so time frame. I added an immense amount of cheese, both cheddar and mozzarella, to this dish. Some of it I warmed up, and some of it I ate cold.

I had three glasses of Sam's Club Sweet Tea, and one 20 Blue Gatorade.

I ate a bowl of Coffee Ice Cream, mixed with a Bowl of French Vanilla Ice Cream, both Breyer's brand.

I hate two pieces of garlic bread; with the first helping of spaghetti I ate.

I ate a white crme cake, and half of a homemade coconut

Dream: Monday, March 27, 2006

I was lying in a bed, not my bed, not her bed, but in a bed. This bed was beside an identical bed, having a size of a king or queen size bed, but matching another bed to the left of identical characteristics with a blue bed spread on both of them. I had two broke legs, and a broke arm, and I was lying with a girl, who appeared to be Paula M.G. as if we were about to have sex. Her "father" was lying in the bed beside of us, who appeared to be James G. In a later event, I think we may have had sex, but when asked by various people of whom I don't remember, I simply said I don't know, I feel like I have just been asleep all this time. There was some time lapse, or at least enough for her "father" to get out of bed and walk out of the room. Then in walk two people I don't know, but know of. One is the new kid who sits at the far senior table in lunch, the other was a person who my friend Tommy has to keep telling me who he is, and with doing so as soon as the kid walks in I ask who he is, and suddenly Tommy is to my left as I still lay in the bed with Paula and he yells at me once again about me not knowing the guys name. After a while more and more people come into the room. I look out the window and it seems to be an aerial view of Fort Myers, but it's different. There are automobiles everywhere, in yards, on sidewalks, in parking spaces, in the roads, all around. These are not typical cars; these are junk cars as if we are in a junkyard. About this time Aaron walks in and tells me why we have not been in contact. He tells me that him and all of his crew, and their girlfriends went out, and their simply wasn't enough room for me, and not that I was forgotten. Also, he had to go pick up Troy in his Camaro or Trans-Am depending on which view of the dream I remember correctly. Aaron then goes to tell me the story of the past evening's trip to the mall. We are leaning against the window above the bed, and it is cracked in an odd pattern. It has like the word McKenzie cracked in it. While he is telling me the story, which I don't recall due to the noise and music, Nick Moore leans over like to tell me something listening to his Ipod Shuffle and I lean him away from us, and Aaron lets out a sigh. Some time passes and I begin to leave. I don't know if I am with anyone or even in an automobile, but I am moving past all the junk cars in which there are a lot of Ford F-150s and I think of snatching my dad a new or newer tailgate for his truck as it is actually badly damaged in real life. I come to a stop light and look and see a dog to my right. It is standing next to an old building. I go past the building and on to stop at stoplight. This stop light was just like the one across from the Fort Myers bridge, but as soon as I cross in under it, it become the one in front of the Bluff City Bridge, but just as I cross onto the bridge I realize it is not the current bridge but the trestle bridge from years earlier. At about this time my memory starts to wane, and I don't recall the rest of the dream, except I am crossing the bridge and I look back and see the junk trucks on the side walk and median, and then I woke up

Notes: I could have actually been in a hospital, which would account for the high story view, the matching beds, regardless of size, and the cheapness of the windows, which I failed to note earlier.

I think that all of this connects in one way or another but due to the fact of giving away too much info on people who were just in my dreams, I will choose not to describe the full connections.

New Poems

I added some untitled poems that I recently titled, I also added some newly written poems. Enjoy.

/ Corkboard Sunrise

when the dead can't smile

past the killing, and even longer so the death
one more man is put past his test

a tired and bothersome load
the test passes on past this humble abode

but on tired old occasions
the pardon is not granted

and so fourth the damaged move forward
forever keeping this myth slanted

when the ferns and lilies grow
so does the sickness like a cold in the snow

and the damaged move toward the dead
much as a robin casts it perch near the shed

for one who does not wonder
this mystery is never too much

like sharp knives kept in the cupboard
so many a sow's underbelly is torn asunder

changing our mood swings to by the times
stealing our honey from the grasshopper
instead of the bee's hive.

from where the sun now stands

/ Take One From the Top

I don’t want to force you out

Like a cold country stream

Let you flow about

Spilling from the pens lofty ink cartridge

Filled for only the short time

To write down this bliss

When captured in a room with

Subject like him

Each his own idea leaks out at each other’s whim

Tears melt through paper

Like acid through a steel girder

Or as lead’s dust shapes the ages

/ Honey Wagon

jumping from pool to puddle
island hopping around
carrying religion on
your shirt sleeve
like so many Sunday ladies
working at needle point


for charity you feed
on the soft underbelly
of our fair town
selling knives
at burger king, at 10:30


working to clean
the uniforms..
to clothe the workers
who conform to the cleansing
of their rebellion, from 9-5


waiting to get poked
by that sentimental message
in the sky the angel form
in the clouds that comforts
you like then

/ For the Peaks

with data hidden
and the meaning foretold
so we -- scratch that
rainbows

forcing out depression as
we stalk the night and
lay false claims to her
soul burning bri.....

clearly now the effort
is lost and the paint
chips off leaving only
the stones

such consumption of
power and the waste of
food feeds a hundred
starving natives and
the life no good.

want not what you have
but to lie so grander

smoke another one my
dear friends and trim
off of you

colored rocks in the
Forrest tell only half
truths as the water
sparkles brightly and
the seasons perpetuate
a new.

/ Written on the Back of Hitch

to you my lost star
quietly waining in the
winter moon

light hurts my eyes after
a night of hard drinking

blending together the
sorrows of years past

Angst and sodomy combines
for a sweet taste

hearing and wanting; listen
to their needs

as the automobiles rust
and decay is commonplace

so the waste of your society
waits on the children's shore

needles and spoons litter
the earth but no one
leaves space for the
stockings to hang

nevermore does the quiet
ring so true

as when I wait outside
your window longing to
feel -- the dew.