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This week I had some weird fucking dreams, starting with the most recent, it was the weirdest. I think my last dream was on Friday, yeah, I'm sure it was Friday.

I don't know, but for some reason the dream seemed like I was on a television show. I was watching myself from a third person view. It was me and couple other guys and we are fishing with this compact, futuristic rod that can work with only one hand. The entire fishing rod fits snugly in my hand, it was a handle with two buttons. A squeeze of the trigger and she would cast, nothing overly complicated. When it came time to bring in the line, a press of the button and she reeled herself in. I watched somebody else try using it like an old rod and didn't get any results, it was my turn to play with this thing. I walked to the end of the deck. Oh yeah! I forgot to mention, we're fishing a backyard in the middle of suburban sprawl. There was a fence surrounding us, So, eventually my mind turns the place into my backyard.

While I'm casting my lure out, I'm thinking I was going to pull up another lame looking catfish. When I catch what kinda looks like a baby shark, I can't be to sure what species because I haven't done any research. But back to the point. Once I pulled him out of the water he started eating his way up the line. He nearly took off my thumb before I let go of the fancy fishing rod. Letting both the shark and the fancy rod fall into the water, and I imagine never to be seen again. Here's the thing, I guess the that little piece of technology was the only prototype they had. Oops, my bad.

The day and dream before had me running from the cops once again, only this time I tryed hiding. I entered a cafe and briefly talked with the cashier. I moved towards a table. I wanted to blend-in, get lost in a sea of faces, but this place was dead. I'm about to sit when the long arm of the law opens the door to the establishment. I dart towards another set of doors, but outside is yet another cop standing next to a red Ford F-150. I stop dead in my tracks. Time slowed to a stand still and for one second I thought about running. Situation assessment became my priority. The cop that followed me in was now face to face with the cashier. The one outside had his back to me at a stop sign talking to the person drivng the Ford, exiting through those doors I would alert both of them to my location. I needed to think fast; I needed to ditch the blunt wrap that was now in my hand.

The first cop was now searching under tables with his flashlight. This gave me the few extra seconds to stash the contraband. Rolled up on the floor I found a rug, it was the perfect hiding place. With the shit hidden, I didn't mind if they found me, all I knew was I didn't want to run. I layed down and tryed hard not to be seen. I really didn't worry because at that time to obtain my freedom I knew all I needed to do is wake myself up. This is exactly what I did when the cops and my eyes met.

The first dream this week was about ten seconds in length, and was over soon as it begun. It seemed to be a premonition, because two day later reports started pouring in on the major news stations. In my dream, another person and I watched as the clouds became very ominous looking. Lightning was flashing everywhere, and small tornadoes started descending out of the grey hell that lurked over head. I watch until I started seeing a big one pushing its way out of the sky, that was the end for me and I woke up.

Coinciding with my first-ever tornado dream are tornadoes that struck outside of their season in America's mid-west. I think that this is more than a rare coincidence. I like to think about all the other possiblities to life. Our emotions, our feelings, they can be used for more. We can feel when danger surrounds us, or even, when we fall into that thing called love. We can see light and hear noise; we can touch, smell, and taste things. Our emotions are everything, they allow us to; see beauty, enjoy music, desire touch, love a certain smell, and taste wonderful things. We are nothing without our emotions, they're what ever you make of them. All I know is some of my dreams are filled with emotion, that's the only way I can remember them. Emotions are energy, they're power, they're tools at our disposal.

December 21, 2007 | Februrary 4, 2008

Some creative writing exercises from yesterday - two poems based around two emotions.

Fear
The clouds roll, amble unaware
Through the blue skies above
White, pure and innocent,
I can almost see the reflections
of the peace below
The greening fields, gently
sleeping corn, a man and his young dog
Taking in the day
But gradually the underworld
beneath the tranquil earth
makes the clouds turn grey
Billowing larger desperately trying
to out-tough humanity
Eyes of light flash across the heavens
But cannot illuminate, or halt, the evil ways of man

Mild Annoyance
Oh, familial love! You pounce and play
Rip tails off cotton mice, and bring
back real ones as a touching,
if nauseating, offering of affection
Your fiercely independent little face
That snaps around, endlessly seeking more entertainment
until.
Until, my hand hoves into view
The salt must glitter and gleam on
my skin! The grooves and lines
and baby hairs entice you to take a bite,
and test my patience.
You little bastard.

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