recurring dream: missing class [#freewrite]

i talked a little bit about dreams in a previous post. since then, they haven’t been as consistently memorable, but every now and then i will have one that sticks out. then there are the recurring dreams that i have. there is one i’ve been having for almost a year now.

it’s not at all a nightmare, but the dream is for some reason haunting. it always takes place at least halfway through some imaginary semester at college. somewhere in the midst of my day, i realize that there is one class that i keep missing. i don’t know what class this specifically, but i have missed it enough times to fail. although i try to act like i’m not worried, i always have the worst a pit in my stomach, ashamed that i could be so irresponsible with my education (especially one for which i am paying). there is no doubt that i am incredibly clueless in this class, but i tell myself that i’ll catch up and i’ll pass.


another variation of the dream involves me forgetting the lines to a play while i’m on stage. i started having this dream last fall, when i was in the rehearsal process for a show I did called RUINED. it was even worse than the classroom dream, because i literally ruined the whole production for the cast, crew, and the audience, which is a performer’s worst nightmare.

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i need a fucking lock [freewrite]

as soon as my check clears, i am purchasing a lock. i used to have a lock before my sister stole my room when i went to college. now i’m in the small shoebox that was originally hers, and this shit doesn’t have a lock.


i’m so tired of people walking in here with knocking. who does that? and they claim they don’t, but they do, and i’m sick of it. it was such a relief being back home after having zero privacy in the dorms (except junior year when I had my OWN room, so nice, loved it) until i remembered i live in a room with a built-in, lifetime guaranteed, reverse do-not-disturb sign, open-door policy. what if i want to sleep butt naked without having to worry about intruded upon by my mom and my sister? what if i want to masturbate all over my room, in all 4 corners? oops, guess i can’t.

so my sister just got back home after being in new york for a few days. the first thing she does is barge in my room unannounced at 3 AM, turn on my light, unplug the fan that i took from her room, tell me my room stinks, ask what the wet spot is on my carpet (it’s water), and tell me my room stinks again before walking out with the fan and slamming my door. what the fuck. i don’t understand the way the world works sometimes. the fan isn’t hers, by the way. it’s a house fan. completely communal. not purchased by her at all. i’d be all types of “girls” and “gays” if i were to snitch and have my mom make her give me back the fan, though. oops, guess i wasn’t hot.

sometimes i get so angry i want to cry because what can i do? i can’t call my sister a bitch, right? or my mom for that matter. even if i think it. even if i want to. i could, but… that wouldn’t help.

more of the same [freewrite]

how many ways can you ask the same question?
how many times can i say the same thing?
How many ways can you ask the same question?
How many times can I say the same thing?
hOw mAnY wAYs cAn yOU Ask thE sAmE quEstIOn?
hOw mAnY tImEs cAn I sAY thE sAmE thIng?

witch hazel [freewrite]

Nobody should be talked at, barked at, or attacked with words. Ripped to shreds by verbs like razors, while nouns like blades slice straight through the skin. Lacerations heal only to be broken again, with no trace of witch hazel to mend the way it stings. Wound open ended like a hand with no ring. Like sentences without periods the damage is serious.

I am not broken, but I am bent out of shape.
Abused with the spells that you cast in my space.
Although there are traits you’d prefer I replace, all I can be is myself.


So why all the hate?

mercury in pisces: the word deception [#StarsAndSymbols]

I let my fingers do the walking and they’re doing it right. they’re doing it, right? then let me snap. do what’s best for all involved parties. cast a spell if the occasion’s appropriate. practice magic for old time’s sake! for better or for worse, play along. The show is on.

it’s not over.
but it fragments.
right around this point…

it’s like i don’t know what to say anymore. i could use a script to memorize. a written line, a spoken word pre-cursed before i have the chance to command it. rehearsed and practiced, readily enchanted by …

real housewives, real world, and reality shows. taking city after city. so hard to keep up, try as we might. try as we may. there is a graduation in may that i might not make. but then again, maybe i will. well, now we’re off topic.

Remind me one more time what we were talking about. I am forgetting. I keep getting… lost. It’s okay, though. It’s not that bad.

it’s fine, because everything is going to be alright. that’s what i write, that’s what i will. it’s a commitment, it’s a deal, and i know it’s real because i feel it and it feels so good, so how could it possibly be anything else? i being myself being me.




guilt [freewrite]

One thing that bothers me is being blamed for something I didn’t do.

When I was in pre-school, I was wrongfully accused of saying “kiss my butt” on the school bus ride home. I did say the word “butt”, but never told (nor asked) anyone to kiss it. That would have been completely out of character for me. The bus driver’s aid misheard my juvenile conversation, and took it upon herself to tell on me.

I was beat with a belt by my relative with whom we lived at the time. It wasn’t a bad beating, and she was just disciplining me as far as she knew. The point was and is I never said “kiss my butt.” I was punished for a crime I never committed. Made to feel guilty when I was innocent. Worst of all, nobody believed me or defended me when I told them my truth. I think sometimes I underestimate the long-term effect this incident had on me as a being, especially since I was only a child. How might I find myself reenacting this moment, even to this day?

Although my family and I will occasionally laugh about it and I’m pretty sure I got some type of half-assed “sorry”, I still feel like I never received a serious apology. I can laugh about it, but there is definitely a part of me that is still angry. I don’t know what could resolve these feelings. Maybe venting about this memory will serve as an elixir.

When people make big deals out of situations that I perceive as relatively unimportant, I have to remember that we all have “kiss my butt” stories. In Astrology, I believe childhood trauma is represented by Chiron, the wounded healer. The pain experienced as a result of Chiron gives us to ability to help others experiencing similar pain, even if we can’t seem to help ourselves.

If you were wondering what I actually said on the school bus, I was simply explaining to my seatmate that “boo-boo does not mean butt.” O, childhood.

love in loss [freewrite]

there is still love in loss

after what seemed a life so long, you’re gone
like a dream, i wake up and wonder were you ever really here
covered my ears after you closed your eyes
so I never had to witness what I tried to hide
i know you gave your all

regardless of what I believe
i can’t tell if you remembered me
you were halfway gone in our last meeting
with one foot standing in a different world
vulnerable just like a little girl

there still love in loss

after what seemed a life so long, you’re gone
at least that’s what my eyes are telling me
is it real if i can’t physically feel you
just like a thought

the ring of life [freewrite]

we’re all waiting for something that isn’t coming
it isn’t going to come

not tomorrow
not next week
or in a month
nor a single year

especially not tomorrow
not next week especially

there’s no need to wait for anything
because everything is happening right now
it always happens
and it will forever
as long as you are wearing
the Ring of Life.