Since I've done much of anything interesting. I just read my entries, which clearly stop when I just can't write about anything at all. That wall has been steadily growing taller with each day passing. It's sick to see how many times I mention that I alter my reality frequently. Why can't anyone see how troubling that trend is? Well, this time, I'll say something different. I feel a really big change wanting to happen. Honestly, I'm just tired of this track that I've been circling for the past years, and it's hard to comprehend that I've been acting like this for so long. I'm taking a hiatus from the bar scene, and I'll lessen my other bad habits in a slower fashion. Goal #1. It seems like the most logical starting point.
Anyway, I've been remembering my dreams again recently. It's been a really long time since I have had that happen. These dreams are particularly enveloping and realistic. A lot of the details of both have been easily retained. These circumstances have me really intrigued as to what I'm trying to tell myself. Dr. Brassard gave me a hypnotic method used prior to, during, and after sleep to figure out why I "self-sabotage" when it came to schoolwork. This was 3 years ago. I've still been too scared to use it. Not quite sure I can handle that information. Anyway, what I've read recently indicates that my dreams are representing my current problems that I've been trying to ignore with as many distractions as I can find.
I think I've been having toxic dreams, but I'm not sure. Apparently, they feel very realistic and are rather upsetting (check). The body's prone to them more when it's cleansing system is overloaded (this sounds stupid, but I feel like it makes sense). They're usually nightmares (not quite,but scary at times), and their purpose is to signal the mind that it went to rest in a physically toxic state. Mine aren't terrifying nor was I intoxicated when I had them; however, this definition considers shitty food choices and emotions and lack of sleep as toxins. Those kind of apply to me. Anyway, they just feel heavy, so I'm working on analyzing them.
Synopsis of dream (as much as I've gathered from it): My nose is bleeding. Not the normal drips; I'm profusely bleeding. Am I hemorrhaging to death? It's not cool, but it doesn't hurt. I'm calm. I'm in my home (but not in reality). I'm spilling my crimson stream into a white porcelain sink in a rather white room, sparsely furnished with items found in living room. I start to worry. Then, Steve appears (not magically but like he should have, if that makes sense). He holds out half an eggshell and catches the blood with it while telling me that by the time I fill up the shell, which is by the time he stops explaining this thought, the flow will stop. And it does. Everything is fine... We're (yeah, he's still there) in a car, being driven to a party somewhere. He and his arm around me in this old car with red leather interior (much like the "Karma Police" video, just realized). We were together. Then, I go to a parties that seem to take place outside houses you see on TV shows set in California. Steve doesn't return much. I don't know how long the time period was, but it felt like I was going on a bender - there was a party every night. I lose my car a few times, so I drive two Subaru's while I'm still looking for meine Auto. I come to find that this badass gang-like dude stole my car from where I'd left it after a night of drinking because I'd hit his something on his property while I was driving drunk. All my friends were there at the different parties, which seemed to be in the same place even though I never knew it was. Each setting looked the same. I often lost my keys and/or my car in the dark. I panic each time.
Then, I wake up. I slept from 5something to 7:50am because I had to cart Mike to school. My car stalls at the light that turned red before it allowed me to drive up the school's cul de sac. That motherfucker is one of the longest lights ever. It caused my car to stall. I remember the dream. Mike hops out of the car because he's almost late. A cop pulled up to me after 3 minutes of attempting to will the engine to life. I have to call AAA because the cop parked his car behind mine in order to direct traffic. I needed at least 30 minutes for the engine to cool so that it'd have a chance to start, but it was the morning rush hour, and my immobile automobile was blocking the flow. Pee-Wee's garage came to tow it. The 60-something man was nice enough while I carefully watched him attach the tow (this is my third time; I know how the hooks work now) to my bumper and underneath my wheels. I awkwardly pull myself into the cab while wearing a hoodie over my pj's, having done nothing to alter my appearance after rolling out of bed. I hate my life while I have the Tequila! dance run through my head as we sit in silence for the 10 minute ride to south side. Then, I have to write him a check because I don't have $3. I watched some tv while I calmed down enough to go back to sleep. Proceeded to waste the entire day but it isn't as though every day isn't essentially wasted anyway.
Enough for now. I'll analyse this tomorrow.