And the winner is… Blogger! For some reason, Blogger is where I feel most at home even though it’s kind of dead there. I’ll probably only update the other sites every few days or so.
Dan’s still making his false promises and leading people on with hints of keeping the site going somehow. I’m sure he means well but I’m tired of him being all talk. He’s been that way for half a decade and as nice as he may be, I’m sick of it. I’m at the point where I don’t even bother to check out his posts anymore because it’s full of the same old, same old. It’s no wonder he disabled comments. People are getting sick of it too, and with trying to be patient for nothing. Meanwhile, if the site somehow lives on and is brought back to speed, great. I’ll go back to writing regularly there if and when that ever comes to fruition.
Just when I had been sleeping well enough not to remember my dreams, the shitty sleep has returned right along with the nightmares. I actually had one good dream, though, of winning 30k. But the bad dreams were pretty horrible so if you’re not into reading about dreams, good or bad, skip this entry.
Not only did I wake up twice to pee and twice from loud traffic, and then finally get up to the sound of obnoxious sawing as we can’t go one fucking week without a project here (they’re doing something at the house on the other side of Bob and Virginia), my dreams were less than pleasant.
I had just said to him the night before that I missed the “dream people” and hoped they would return as long as they could be nice. Well, they weren’t. In one dream we were at some store buying who knows what. There were three young women behind the service counter when one of them said that it would “push on our ears and make us smile.” 🙂 Well, Tom wasn’t happy to hear this, naturally, and demanded a refund of $40 for whatever the hell the product was. The girl became angry and said something about leaving her alone for a while and she stormed off. I demanded the other girl closest to us give us our money back. When she refused, I grabbed her by the hair and demanded the money, shaking her viciously. Then I looked at the third girl, and not wanting her to call for the bacon, I let the second girl go and tried to hustle Tom to the car who was walking in slow motion.
The worst dream was being in jail for who knows what when they decided to tell me that they were going to use me as a guinea pig in a weight-loss experiment that required a variety of experimental drugs. I told them that I not only had a medication phobia but refused to let anybody use my body as they pleased without my consent.
My punishment for not “cooperating” was starvation. They wouldn’t feed me unless I agreed to participate. Each day they brought me a tray of food and each day I refused it, determined not to let my body be turned into an experimental specimen. I became so weak that the last thing I remember in the dream was one of the guards throwing a bagged lunch at me. I guess they decided I should eat no matter what but it was too late. I was too weak to sit up and feed myself at that point even if I wanted to. The dream ended before they could either save me or let me starve to death. I think I know which one they chose. Like I said, definitely not happy in Dreamland.
The only other dreams I remember was being in some building with an indoor swimming pool, telling some guy to fuck off, and writing a French address on some envelope for Christiane. It seemed to be something I did periodically for her and for some reason I came to enjoy it. Like I was oh so honored to do her this favor, LOL. She read the address back to me and I was impressed with her perfect French pronunciation. Then I lost the address and became frustrated because I knew this meant I would no longer be able to write it out for her as apparently, neither of us had it memorized.