Saturday, March 27

-= YiffyDragon //

13th March 2004: 03:03am

{Mood} Expressive, Worried
{Music} {Savage Garden- Mine}
"You don't have to die to leave my world, stand still and you've departed"

Wow, that's an interesting time to be writing at. Just noticed. :) Hey people. I guess this is my blog, just started off. I used to have a website but I guess this is gonna be different, probably coz it's not meant for entertainment, just for me to, well, blog...
Well, I went out tonight. Haven't been out too much lately, been at home alot, but maybe I prefer that. Not too sure. Anyways, I was on the net and I ran into Kerrie, and she invited me out, so what the hell... we were chatting about AS exam results and stuff for January.
I got an A and a B for English Lit and Psychology, but what really fucked me off was that somehow or other I've managed to acquire an E for English Language. This fucks me off. Alot. Not just partly because I have revised like a warthog for that exam, but also partly because the whole year of AS students have not managed to get an E or higher in that subject. That indicates that my lecturer is retarded in some way, because out of numerous people she's seemingly not managed to get one of us to extract even a little smudge of intelligence in our exams.
This leaves me with a dilemma. If life was easy, I would believe that my lecturer for English Language was a moron and did not have a brain. This isnt true, however, because my lecturer for English Lit happens to be the same person. The lecturer who got me 84/90 for my literature exam has managed to get me a pile of dog shit (ie. language results papers) for my other subject. I would like to say that the result she has managed to give me for my lit would make up for my language exam, but frankly it doesnt. Unless she changes her ways and explains to me in some kind of digestible manner how the hell she has fucked up in such a catastrophic way, I will probably quite reliably ensure her guts are fed to my non existent pet crocidile in the coming days.
Anyhow, yes. So me and kerrie chatted about that. After Kerrie, who found out she had done equally bad drowned her sorrows, the place of commiseration and condolence was named. We organised to head off to the dog, ie. local shithole which sells booze and allows drunken frolics. It's a small little place, and generally houses a lot of retards. Yeah, I'm not too fond of the general crowd that go to this place. I guess it's kind of like known as a place for the 'alternative' crowd to go, the emphasis being on the fact that people know it to be 'alternative'. This consequentially means that a large percentage of judgemental fuckheads either label it as a shithole, or turn it into one. What i mean by this is that either the 'fashion followers' gossip and cause a bad reputation, or the people who go there, go there because of this label and thus these people are usually the ones who are pretty lame, ie. the ones who consider fashion or appearance to generally be an important part of life. They go to this club because they believe this will maintain their appearance or reputation, or something like that.
Anyhow, this thought kinda came to light in my head while standing in this club nursing my wounds of recieving my English language result. After a bottle or two of the finest alcoholic trash the 'Dog' has to offer, I guess the tunes and musical notes of the place took grip and I managed to enjoy myself.
But, as is typical sometimes of going out clubbing, especially at venues such as this, an immense feelin of sadness came over me. I guess the positivists of the world could put it down to alcohol... ie. relying on previous experiences of alcohol themselves. But I dunno, I guess I have these kinda feelings about this kinda stuff at other times as well. In the lights and stuff of that kinda disco environment, I tried to glimpse a sense of reality and all I see is people in society needing to do this kind of thing because of the daily stress of life. I see people portrayed as mere consumers of some nightclub business. I see the way alcohol fuels business, economy and lifestyle. I see teenage pregnancy, and teenage socialisation at it's most prominent. I don't really see true happiness or relaxation. I see broken bottles and blood, tears for lost love in some cases and the endless, perhaps hopeless search of so many people in the lights and disco bulbs for a true love, or someone in life to wipe away their problems.
This place isnt gonna give them that.
Anyhow, I join the crowd. I guess the issue of conformity kinda means I'm not gonna kick up a ruckus and describe my feelings of non-belonging or exclusion. Instead I request two bottles of the very nice VK apple and a malibu and coke for Kerrie. The barman proceeds to tell me I'm underage and that he can't serve me. I am shocked by this; the 'dog' is famous for letting in people as young as 12. I happen to be 17.
I then realise the cognitive framework behind his facial expression, which by the way, resembles a warthog. This geezer knows my brother and probably didn't get on with him very well. Thus, by seeing his little brother, wants to cause as much trouble as possible at non other than my expense. He pulls me to the side of the bar, and suggests, quite forcibly, that I could possibly be less than eighteen years old. I point out that his face suggests he has the mental age of three. He scrunches his face up and ignores my comment. I proceed to tell him however that I admire his cunningness in the context that he has recognised I am related to my brother and that he can recognise facial similarities; i also tell him that if i were to see a pile of dog shit in the next couple of days, I would use the same amount of cunning and recognise the similarities between dog shit and him.
He tells me to follow him to the boss of the nightclub, where he can decide whether I am allowed to stay in the club or not. I do feel the need to remind you that I am 17, and although in legal terms I am underage to be in the club, approximately 50%/60% of the children in the 'Dog' are underage, and that is no lie.
Anyhow, we reach the boss. This involves climbing a flight of stairs back to where I came in. The boss seems fairly unconcerned about his worker's moronic behaviour, and tells me to bring my ID (proof of age) next time I come to the club. On finding out that I don't have to leave, I push the worker down the stairs. Fuckface.
The night was a long one. It's probably felt like one of the longest I've had- I'm not sure why, perhaps because I headed out at 8pm. Since I went into there at around 10pm, and it finished at 2pm, 4 hours can be a long time.
4 hours of enjoyment or whatever we will call it, but I dunno, also education. Each time I go out I discover more and more what I am perhaps meant to be at this age; anti conformist but conformist in the context that I recognise conformity and so act as an anti conformist because of it. In essence, I am remaining a conformist because the definition of anti conformist is detirmined by acting out the opposites of conformity. In the lights and disco bulbs I also watched the endless cycle of teenage communication, I watch the cycles of human after human following regulations and recommendations put out by our government; I watch how people subconsciously react to the environment around them. I watch people behaving drunkenly whether they are or not, because they are in an environment that permits it; I watch glass fly where it would not usually, because it permits it. I watch sexual conquests ensue simply because, in this club, it is permitted. The animalistic nature of society has always baffled me.
Amazingly, and perhaps very 'geekily' the foundings of Freud (a psychologist) hover over my mind. This is because I realise, by watching this stuff, I am causing conflicts in my mind. By watching these people and realising they are really just acting as natural animals I am defying the commonly spread view, and realising the untruths, that humans are dignified and extremely sophisticated structures; not necessarily true for all of them. This conflict between newly realised truths and former beliefs is one of the conflicts that Freud describes as the recipe for mental difficulties; the theory that conflicts in the mind detirmine personality or perhaps cognitive (mental process) difficulties in the future. Thus, realising subconsciously that humans are no way near as dignified as we like to believe will cause a problem for me later on, probably when it comes to stuff such as socialisation- I have shallow beliefs in the quality of human morals. We are merely animalistic. To some extent, all of us.
Well, anyhow, the night comes to an end. After a fair few drinks. Kerrie is fairly drunk so I walk with her out of the dog and wander through town for a few minutes before finally managing to hail down a taxi- I only regret afterwards that I did not pick up a cheeseburger that I intended. I realise that perhaps this does not matter too much- I have food at home- besides, I ate pasta salad and pizza during the night... I shouldn't have even been hungry. But still, I have some damned urges for a big munch on a cheeseburger. Call it defiance, maybe of what I'd already seen that evening. I dunno how a big munch on a cheeseburger can do anything to change that- perhaps it even strengthens the idea that when in anxiety or uncertainty animals turn to energetic restoration- ie. food. But either way, nothing psychological or even physical (my stomach felt fairly boozed up) was gonna stop my urge to eat cheeseyburgeryness. Still, £3 is too much for a burger and 300 metres is too much to go to another food venue. Thus, I went home in the taxi with Kerrie.
It was a quick journey, I live close to town. Exactly what Kerrie said.
That girl interests me. She's amazingly uninfluenced by anything tainted which I think is cool. Thumbs up for someone who lives for herself.

I have accidentally missed one or two college days quite recently. I think this was due to the stress of the exams; I do not like exams. I am worried about the summer exams, particularly after my english language result. I worry that I may somehow make a mistake like that during the summer and consequentially acquire a diabolical mark- this is a major worry because I base my life expectations and aims on my academic profile.
I question whether college is pushing me as hard as it should- I observe perhaps too many people failing where they should succeed, or people succeeding where they should shine. Thus, I worry continuously whether I would be doing better elsewhere; I can by all means revise my heart out on my A levels but if the very material and context that the information is being taught in is wrong, then perhaps I'm seeing my educational life in a way that is going to affect my results nontheless.
I feel misinformed- I feel like I do not know exactly what I am aiming for- I also feel that one or two of my lecturers in college are not giving me the information I need and this could have a catastrophic effect in the summer. The english language result scares me- it seems practically immoral that I can feel the full force of bad or misinterpreted teaching that has not been detected and so recitified.
I do not deserve an E and do not want it; I tried so hard. It nearly brings tears to my eyes that so many hours of hard work can be for nothing- time is precious to me. We have desperately little of it in the world.

I am tempted to explore some other people's journals- people who write generally usually have more substance to their character than the average person I meet. If people want to write stuff down it is generally due to psychological overload- you no longer want to have to deal with stuff in your head and so if you can put it down on paper in a way which is good is feels more organised and consequentally less demanding, both in terms of stress and happiness.
I long to find a girl like me in this way; someone who sees things the way I do. I desperately need a companion to communicate with; to unleash my fears, doubts, my hopes and conquests on the world. I need someone who makes everything I say beautiful. I want someone to make my world go round. At the moment it bumps, and curves, and doesn't even follow any correlation.
I have a girl in some of my college classes; she is exactly the opposite of what I would ever look for, but she amazes me because she is so bright in the most abstract way. To the education authority and to everyday people such as me, she seems both unintelligent quite often and unconsiderate- however, at times, if u look closely, the girl has an amazing brain.
Anyhow, enough of her, because I'm not really meant to know her or anything. Ha, hard to explain.
I remember when I fell in love with Katie- I've never quite been sure why. Now I feel idiotic for it- especially as she had nothing to offer me. I struggle to find reasons of why I did and so it troubles me- I fear things such as my genetic formation will detirmine who I adore and so I have no control over who I love- if this means I do not fall for people who could be perfect for me, then once again it's animalistic nature that's making me pay the price for being a human.
Maybe I should be a puppy. They love everyone.


Mood: Tired... More Relaxed.
Music: Savage Garden- Moon And Back
"She can't remember a time when she felt needed, if love was red then she was colour blind"

I don't appear to have got to sleep yet. I remember questioning whether to or not; the advantages of going to sleep are that I feel more energetic tomorrow, however it would put my body clock way out of sync. The advantages of staying up are that I can get a good sleep later on tomorrow night, however I will be tired all during the day, meaning I might not get a lot done. Ah, decisions.
I have only just really realised that I have a genuine and still strong love of Savage Garden- they must be destined to be a lifetime's favoured band. They probably join Muse and many other bands that I have not discovered yet. I see in music what a lot of people do not- genuine emotion, perception of life and psychological process formation. What i mean is, how different emotions come out in different people. Like, a child does not express their feelings the same way an adult does. Thus, music is character, and character in the context of levels of development, tone, and an indication of the person themselves.
This is perhaps why many people have so many features in common with their idol or someone they look up to; psychologically and in the world they live in, they are similar in some forms of perception.
This does not explain however, why I have the same damned initials as one of my heroes., and two of the same names. However it wud b untrue that my only hero is Matt James Bellamy- I think he only resembles a success dream that I have inside of me- and i think its important to recognise different things in life- thats why my other heroes are also my mum and my brother- i think personality wise I do not connect as well with my sister or my dad, tho I love them both dearly. I think my sister is spoilt and I think my dad is over analysing- but we all have our faults. I do too undoubtedly- I think I am inconsiderate sometimes and much too lazy at times. I also think I get my priorities wrong and am not reliable enough.
However, there are brilliant things about my family- we are all destined for good things. Although my sister is spoilt she is thoughtful, and very perceptive- although she can be shy, I think she is a smaller version of me- but feminine. I think she's still developing and hasnt found herself yet, truly.
I think my dad worries too much- it's much nicer when he's happy a lot of the time. Too often he can be stressed- I think he can sometimes take life too seriously. He can be the best though- in the right place at the right time, dad can be invaluable. He's headstrong- you know he won't let you down. Ah, i love the bloke, though it's hard to show him. I have a feeling that as I get older, my dad is gonna turn into a whole new figure in my head. I think my dad is still yet to show me the absolute best of him. I feel like i'm waiting in eager anticipation. What a complex character.
I perhaps feel sadness occasionally when I think that I've had an alright relationship with my dad but we've never been majorly close- he's been a reliable figure in my life but has never been my best friend- I think it's to do with the age difference. I see me in him- except I see him as something I could be, but choose not to. I think he is the content person with the life he has, whereas I am still searching. I think he has made his judgements on the world and is acting by them, whereas I have not yet and instead choose to analyse inner instinct and question my own morals when making judgements. Thus making me a highly self-analyzing character and him a person who is not- he looks on the world whereas I look on myself a lot of the time. Thats why I think that in time, me and my dad will become more and more familiar with each other- I think we have so much time left. I feel sorry for him sometimes coz I don't think he gets things which bother him out properly, which probably causes him problems sometimes. When I see him happy it makes me happy, because sometimes you can never tell. Love you dad.
My mum- she's the well of brightness. Nothing will ever wear my mum down- she's absolutely wonderful in that sense. I love my mum more than life itself- she's undoubtedly the most precious thing in my life- she's been my inspiration all along. Maybe some day I will have the chance to tell her properly just how influential she has been- I know her brightness and enthusiasm shines in me and I am eternally grateful to her for it.
And finally my brother. My brother is perhaps the one in so many ways I feel the most sorry for. I know my brother has experienced shit in his life and I ponder whether he has had to miss any experiences or chances in life because of it. His hurt is my hurt- any scenes which I have witnessed where my brother has suffered stick deep in my head- it fuels my anger and energy towards the evil of the world- to my brother I am eternally grateful for that- in his own little way I have managed to see good succeed over evil in such a down-to-earth way that it's hard to explain how he has been so influential. He's shown me that I can do anything. thanks bro, you're the best buddy a brother ever had. I'll always be there for you.

I feel an urge to buy some all-stars trainers. This i am curious of- I know quite certainly that they are not my style. However- I feel a drive to not let anything in life restrict me and so I should go for it, whatever people say. Call me weird for seeing buying a pair of shoes as a big thing, but I guess my character creates expectations from other people. I'd probably be expected to explain myself. For that very reason, I want some. I want to see what I will say.
Please do not judge at this point that I am buying these trainers purely for this point- I am not that naive. I like them- and so I should aim to do what I would do in any situation where I am not influenced- I should buy the trainers I like. Two fingers up to judgemental fuckheads.

So, what colour to buy- I really do not know. I struggle with shopping- I hate buying individual parts of clothing as I never know what I am going to mix them with in terms of clothes. I like clothes because I see it as similar to an art form- I kinda consider that different to 'fashion followers'. These people generally tend to take fashion as an icon, and not an experiment.
I like to see what I can do with colours and styles- I think it's cool to look nice. I think we should all take pride in our appearance, in whatever way we like, whether it means dressing neatly or messily, cleanly or dirtily, basically whatever we like. As long as we are proud of what we look like I think it's cool- I think it's good to like yourself for what we are- because we can't change that.

I'm looking through the selection of all-stars trainers and I want to buy a basketball-style pair- they're kinda brown with a little star on them. I think they'd look nice with my cords. :) Not that I know where my cords are... they've vanished for quite a while. Maybe my mum ate them. She has a hunger for laundry.
Speaking of parents, they're in Germany at the minute, enjoying a nice weekend. I'm really hoping they're enjoying themselves, I think they've had a fairly stressful time recently, for many reasons. Money hasnt been as comfortable as usual and one of my uncles died fairly recently- although I didn't know him that well, my mum kinda did, and especially my aunt- my mum has had to be there for her I guess.
I can tell that I'm drifting from subject to subject now, thus, I am extremely tired. I'd rather talk about stuff half interestingly, so I'm gonna stop for now. I hope I made an interesting start to my blog. I'm liking this style of writing more than I imagined. It's pretty cosmic. :)
Peace out buddies :)


Mood: Restless, Worried, Comfortable
Music: The Streets- Turn The Page
“they shed tears in the dark after six dark years; young bold soldiers; the fire burns, cracks and smoulders”

Later in the day. I managed to get some sleep, though I was restless even when I went to bed. I’m not really exactly sure why I couldn’t sleep; too much booze? Nah, I didn’t drink a lot. A bit of a headache meant that like I was uncomfortable, but I dunno. I always think too much if I’m not doing a lot with myself.
I had weird confused dreams; it is ironic that on the night I start writing I have dreams that actually seem to make a little sense for the first time in quite a while. I haven’t dreamed quite so vividly in quite a while anyway- interesting.
They seemed pretty sexual- but not in the erotic sense. They were full of like, emotion and a sense of pride or something. I dreamt that I was a really important figure in society. I never really did find out what, but I joined a hall full of other people who were of some significance in the public eye. My description does not get close to what I actually experienced- it was a brightly lit hall, really massive. It could have fit about 5,000 people in there on seats. They were really close together.
Anyhow, I seemed to know the people around me and I seemed to be wanting to make a good impression. I think this is because I was new there- perhaps new to some kind of organisation or community. It seemed astonishingly posh- one or two of the old men and women I was sitting next to and chatting with were very old, and evidently very rich. I felt people’s eyes on me, and I felt happy because I felt I had gone somewhere and achieved something. While sitting there obviously being an important figure in life and meaning something, I seemed pretty comfortable.
Then it started to become a little vexed- Little shadowy figures started flying by the seats. They appeared to be dropping what would be called sweet sherbet down onto the seats. Because the two or three seats on my left weren’t taken, the sherbet figures kept on missing my seat and going around me onto the next row. Then one must have spotted me, because instead he stopped and started dropping this stuff down on me continuously.
It gets crazier. Well, for whatever purposes of the dream I ate this sherbet stuff. It tasted pretty good. Next thing I know I’m off my feet and I’m floating around this hall to my heart’s content. I hover swirl and glide to my delight, and I hear cheers from the crowd below me. After starting to have difficulties landing, I manage to maneoveure myself cleverly by doing a massive 45 degree curve dive back into my seat. Followed by more massive cheers.
The next thing I remember is being in this hut- like, a large room in the middle of nowhere. The surroundings seem to be fairly desert or jungle like- I remember sand being on the floor. This part of the dream makes me squirm a lot, and for many reasons.
Although I have a feeling a lot happened in this part of the dream, I can only remember smaller sections of it. I remember it as if I was enjoying an afternoon in this environment. I am hanging in this hut with my friend. Because of what happens in the dream, I can’t really say who the friend is. Anyhow, I am hanging in the hut (this part of the dream is pretty vague) when I turn around and one of my best buddies is standing there. After a brief chat that I can’t remember, another male comes into the hut making 3 of us. The shocking part is when my friend and him start making out. The part that confuses me here is I know that I am definitely 100% heterosexual. I find it amusing to see gays playing around in my dream. The next weird part is that I am extremely certain that the friend I talk about is not gay- this makes me giggle.
Anyhow, upon this scene happening in the hut, I decide to exit- I run out of the door, and the first thing I notice that I have to dodge on the floor is cockroaches. Filthy, huge ones. I run and run for a while from the hut, obviously knowing in my dream that I am heading somewhere meaningful. I reach there, although I cannot remember the exact details of it now. All I remember is that when I stop, and look down, my feet are covered, absolutely seeting with cockroaches. It is like my feet are made of them. This does not seem to dawn on me- for some reason, perhaps I have seen this image before somewhere and it does not alarm me immediately as I do not realise they are cockroaches straightaway. I then start thinking about why my feet which wud usually be a browny grey in the jungle and black, and kind of scale-like. I fall into a spiral of panic and start tearing at my feet. This is the most uncomfortable part of my dream.
Once I manage to get them all off, I remember starting to run back to the hut. I run as fast as I can, fairly scared that more cockroaches may attach themselves to my feet. There is a massive pile of them outside the hut- I have to dodge them with careful moving of my feet.
On entering the hut my friend is there- but from this point in the dream the other person seems to have vanished- he longer even appears again in my memory while I sleep. I ask my friend if we want to sleep in the hut. I remember looking to my right and down about 20 degrees and seeing a single cockroach leaning against a rock. I suggest to my friend that perhaps it isn’t such a good idea sleeping here because of the cockroaches. He agrees.
The next part of my dream that I can remember is being next to a swimming pool- I am diving in and swimming end to end underwater. I think I am trying to impress people- but I do not know why because no-one is watching. There are about three different pools, tho I canot remember whereabouts each one is placed. I remember going to dive into one and a guard or someone similar tells me not to- the water isn’t deep enough. I agree readily, and manage to find another pool in a matter of a couple of minutes. After hitting the water and the moments after, my memory leaves me, and the entire era of the dream disappears. Everything ends. The water is so refreshing, my conscience feels free. No, I am not having an orgasm. This is a completely clean dream.
I remember coming up for air and seeing something important, but I cannot remember what.
I only remember a little extra of my dream, although I also find it massively significant. I know I dreamt before the bit I can now remember at this stage, but for however desperately I want to remember what came before it I can’t. All I can remember is rushing into the back room of my house, to the downstairs computer, where a girl who I used to love with all my heart and soul is trying to use the computer, or something. We have a joke about something, and I pick her up, and spin her round. We laugh.

I wake up, and the last image I have in my head is her laughing. It hurts, because it brings up memories of her. I remind myself that my situation is not like that, I do not know her anymore. Neither do I want to. Defiance?
Nevertheless, the reminder of long lost love rings dismally in my mind.


Mood: Confident
Music: Duran Duran: Ordinary World
“What is happening to it all, crazy some say, where is the light that I recognise… gone away”

I’m having a troubled day, but I think it’s getting better. Probably due to the night before I’m facing mental challenges in simply getting up and getting stuff done that needs to get done. I remember a few days ago my friend charlotte telling me I worry too much; that for my age I place some things way too seriously on my list of priorities. I thought about this for a while; and maybe she was right. But it did also occur to me that it appears to be because I have something set in my mind reminding me just how important I consider this stage of my life to be- I know that what I do now is gonna have an massive influence for the rest of my life. So, whether to study or to enjoy myself? I try to do both, and then realise that that merely makes me paranoid of neglecting one or the other. Because of this, I sit and do nothing instead, creating more anxiety because I know I am getting nothing accomplished.
Then the more rational thoughts dawn on me. I remember that I have a life, intelligence, and that I am only here once. I remember that I need to enjoy myself while I am here, and that whatever happens, if I see the best of things and try my best, then I can never hit rock bottom. I guess we sometimes place our perception and appreciation of life at the bottom of the Thoughts pile.
Thus, I feel a little better now; I know that at some point today I am going to get some stuff done, and that I cause myself pointless anxiety. I hope my parents are enjoying themselves in Germany.
It’s occurred to me that I’m writing a lot in this blog; I think it’s doing me good. Never before really have I found an effective method of self-expression, and this seems to work fairly good. The fact that people read my blog only increases my likening of it, because I know I can either offend, bore, piss off or maybe make someone smile coz of it.

Saturday 20th March 2004: 10:16pm

Mood: Fairly Stressed Out.
Music- Savage Garden- I Don’t Know You Anymore
“We don’t talk much anymore, we keep running from the pain, but what I wouldn’t give to see your face again…”

And the song ends. I’ve found that, that I can’t really write very well if I’m listening to music- it puts me off. I kinda end up listening to the notes, and often writing about meaningless crap- ah, happy days.
I’m surprised I haven’t written for a week. Hmm… maybe I’m not. It’s occurred to me that lately, everything I do seems to take a while. I think I’m going through a battle with teenage hormones… the part of me that doesn’t want to do anything, and the part of me that does. It seems that I know what I want to be doing all the time, but actually doing it always causes me a problem.
This cider tastes fairly flat; I’m not surprised as I think it was left over from last night. It looks similar to urine, but perhaps there’s a little bit of lemon juice in there.
Windows Media Player is now on permanent silent- it’s ruining my concentration. Shame that I have to actually concentrate to write, but that’s the way it is.

Hmmm, quite amazingly (and by complete coincidence) I happened to have another very strange dream last night. I’ve been dreaming a lot lately- although I’m remembering very little of what I have dreamt afterwards. Dreams interest me- it’s all cognitive psychology.
My dreams always seem to come from restless sleep- ie. The kind of sleep that is when I’ve mostly woken up but can’t really be bothered to get up, and so I end up dosing for another couple of hours. This is when I seem to have crazy dreams- perhaps it’s because it’s only about the last two hours of dreaming that I remember. Who knows.

There was a lot more to the dream, but all I can remember now is I had another yucky dream about sex. A girl and a boy I know were doing nasty things, and it was in my bedroom- except it was messed up, my friend seemed to have gone psycho, she didn’t care….they completely don’t go together and god knows why I dreamed it.
Then the next thing I know is that I’m dreaming walking along a road with Alex, my friend… I can remember vaguely what the street looked like, and it seemed familiar to me, although I know I have never been along that street before. I remember chasing Alex for some reason, and then vaguely Alex chasing me at some point for some reason as well, and then, I kinda realised in my subconscious I was dreaming, and tried to make some sense of it- and then my memory went.
The next thing I remembered was being on a skateboard, rushing down a busy road. I seemed to think I needed to be heading somewhere- and quickly. Anyway, I was with another person, who now I do not understand why he was in my dream. It was a really narrow path, and not exactly a road, nearly 100% of light brownish concrete- it looked very similar to the subway that leads into town via Hill Street, in Coventry. Except, it was that steep but nearly never ending- and lorries and cars I kept on missing, and I knew I could hit something any second- and then my memory went again.
And then for the craziest part of my dream. The bit that was really like, nasty, that is completely abstract and dream like but seems to make sense.
I dreamt of a kid I don’t know very well now, called Brad. We appeared to have travelled on these ‘skateboards’ to a really dark underground place- it seemed instantly sad- perhaps desperate. It was dark, and damp- and Brad seemed to be rushing for something. Something seemed to be on his mind.
Next thing I know, loads of people are around us. Brad is screaming for them to leave him alone- he says he wants out of this place. He says he doesn’t want to be down here, he wants to go back to normal, back to the light.
A girl, who I can only vaguely remember, sneers. She is of a dark figure. It seems to occur to me at this point that Brad is suffering from some kind of addiction. Tears stain his eyes and he weeps desperately. The girl leans close and whispers in his ear.
“Give up Brad, join us down here, you’ll be happier here.”
Brad tries to fight back at this point from the hovering figures. It seems like he is fighting his own battle.
“Nooo…” he weeps, as the light from the passage we came in seems to be getting further and further away. It seems that Brad knows that he wants to be back out of here, back into the light, but he can’t, the thing he craves for holds him back, he seems a mess, he can’t do anything for himself.
I look at the figures that stand around in silence, and they seem creepy- they remind me of heroin addicts who have been completely overtaken by desire for intoxication. Except these seem creepy- I imagine them to be mentally scarred in a way I can not explain- I feel a massive, ever falling world down in this darkness that they know they will never be able to escape.
The figures get closer, and whisper in his ears more. I see Brad’s willpower fading, and I wonder if he’ll manage to get back to the passage and the light, or whether his addiction will take him over. My dream cut out at that point… I remember no more.

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