It truly makes the most beautiful music...

Last night fucked me royally. And I do not mean that a beautiful queen, or princess, fucked me. I wish. I was plagued with dreams for the first time in awhile. Not nightmares, but dreams…yet sort of nightmares.

A short story that’s been told a million times so I’ll tell it again: I liked this girl, and this girl liked me—these two things I’m 100% certain of—but life sucks in many ways and is too hard and things, sometimes, don’t work as they should. For now. For now? And now we’re suddenly strangers, or something near to it, which I never expected.

I really like blogging, by the way. I should have started long ago.

That’s life, I guess. Anyway, against my will, she was in my dreams all last night Not sexual dreams, you sick fucks! That was at least a few weeks ago. No matter how many times I went to sleep, I dreamt of her in some incarnation, only to wake up feeling totally mind-fucked by what is not and what seemingly cannot be other than in dreams.

I’m sure many of us have experienced similar situations—dreaming of a significant other, or a perspective significant other, or someone we just care about, only to wake up and find ourselves lost and, yes, mind-fucked, thinking about the same shit all day, nearly reliving our dreams, seeing the images, wondering why our subconscious tortures us so proficiently, finding that one thing we don’t want to dream about—and yet, we do, so much—and forcing it into our slumbers. If you’ve been reading this blog then you that I’m obsessed with dreams and that I believe they have meaning, that our subconscious, in some way, controls us or at least steers us, only now I can’t identify the meaning of my dreams and what I’m supposed to ascertain. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think, or what I want to think.

It can be an awful feeling—going to sleep only to wake up focused on a single, tender thought and thinking about it all day. Apparently my subconscious hates me, or doesn’t want me to…what? I don’t know. Not give up? Not accept silence?

Sonata Arctica, one of my favorite bands, wrote….

It truly makes the most beautiful music...
Everything it has to give....
It's everywhere, hiding the listener...
Without it...I could not live...
....Silence

In some ways that’s very true. Silence is beautiful. But in this case silence is silent and nothing more.

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I had been planning to write a piece of flash fiction tonight, as this post is just about me and really, no cares just about me other than me, and I just write shit because it’s a means to release whatever’s inside of me and just feel better. I’m fine with that; it’s better than talking, and it’s not like the world reads this blog. However, being on four hours of sleep and having to wake at 9am for the gym, followed by 9 hours of work, I feel like I should sleep. I’m tired, very tired, and although I’m somewhat sure my dreams won’t allow a full night of rest, I should at least humor myself and try.

Thanks for reading, if you’re still reading, whoever’s reading.