002.

yesterday's was a weird sex dream, or perhaps a weird remembering?

i don't like the feelings it gave me, a deep perplexing feeling of which i don't have any answers to. just more questions. it also reminded me of how i felt when i had first seen the movie Mysterious Skin, and how i felt i came across it because it was giving me a possible answer. some people don't remember their trauma, they bury it and forget in order to survive. maybe i am one of those people?

i think maybe i snore or my breathing ain't easy in the slightest because maybe the 'wow's were just the breathing that i could hear from my own self. maybe it was stressed sleep. or bad sleep after overindulging. i'm not sure.

-- 

i was sleeping in someone else's bed. i was really fast asleep and someone disturbed me by coming to bed. i was not happy with whoever it was but i pretended to still be asleep anyway. they came very close and intimate with me, and i felt them get hard within seconds. and then without any movement, i felt the guy had come in his underwear and it was wetness against my back. what really annoyed me was then he was loudly whispering 'wow' over and over all night, because it was that amazing for him. i had made him come with little effort, and after only a short, few minutes of being next to me.

001.

some people just aren't good as parents, and not truly for parenting. especially if they have many issues of their own - mentally, more than socially. or, if they have been abused themselves and haven't worked on themselves to be better than what they know. the people who are born to these types are the worst off IMO.

lately my dreams are being remembered, maybe i'm getting some restful REM sleep?

this morning, i woke up remembering another weird one.

--

i was a student living with another student in some city - we'd moved from a house to a tower block and in with the fellow student's friend who was an artist in university too. the artist had a sister, who lived there too and she was a very moody pre-teen who had just began smoking.

there was art on the rooftop, a stack of bundles of newspapers and the building was sleek black that you could barely distinguish it from the dark night sky. the day was filled with good times and the apartment style living was close quarters but good, we felt like kin. we were chatting on the rooftop at night, and the artist and her sister come and start arguing. the sister was moody with long, frizzy hair and she lit a cigarette as her feet dangled over the edge of the rooftop right next to the newspaper pile. she got really angry with her sister and set fire to the art by dropping the cigarette onto it, despite our pleas for her to back down and try and calm.

we had to rush out of there, as the art of newspaper bundles was emanating from inside to the rooftop so all would be ablaze soon enough. it was painful to leave such a beautiful place where i'd felt at ease and at home with my chosen kin. gathered a few of my most important things and scrambled out there with my original student friend. we went back to the house and told everyone that was there what had happened. and then i woke up.