I am one bad ass dreamer. Especially lately, my dreams have been long and incredibly vivid. The only thing keeping me from mistaking them for real life is that I know for a fact that I'm miserable here, and if I'm at all happy then I must be back at home-- and as home is impossible to get to, it must all be a dream. If that makes any sense, I'll continue, as it was probably what prompted me to approach a dry-erase board in my dream last night and write "This is a dream!". I'm sure I was doing something very important at that point, but the reminder caused me to decide to take advantage of the situation: hence, I went off in search of Joe Jonas to make him the next in the list of men who bow to my every whim (unfortunately, they only ever do this in dreamland). This was a type of lucid dreaming, for sure, as I made the active decision to stray from my course once I realized I was in a dream state.... awesome. Does that make me cool? I always hear fellow art students discussing (pretentiously) how lucid dreaming was ideal, and how they do it every night after they smoke a fat bowl and polish their vintage saddle shoes. I'm so fucking fly.
Though some of my dream were quite happy (finding my in the arms of that young man I try so hard to forget), I have recently started to be plagued with the nightmares of my childhood--recurring, dreadful, and twisted tales of all the people out to kill me, both unknown and real, all-too-known situations that I expect are just memories being dug up by my subconscious. It's one thing to be chased by a boogy-monster. It's another to once again, be chased by someone who you thought you just finally got out of your life. Not only do you get to feel the ear, but also the failure of not shaking them off for good. Now I know I'm getting dramatic, it's all in my mind, but damn it can be scary.

The amount of self-reflection going on in my life is, regrettably, necessary. One has to go forward to go back.