Dreamin'....

I don't know why I've been falling asleep in the recliner so much lately, but its starting to piss me off.  I've got a huge, very comfortable bed....but there's usually someone in it who bitches about my snoring (my sinuses are fubar'ed right now, so the snoring is worse) and bitching about my dogs and I hogging MY bed....

And that person is nothing more than a friend for fucks sake....yet they bitch about what I do in MY bed.  Ugh.

Anyways, I woke up about an hour ago after a dream that was (literally & figuratively) an eye opener.  I'll set the scene for those of you crazy enough to read my rambling bullshit.

I'm sitting in coach class on a Boeing 757-300, in row 42, seat A.  There is an older guy who seemed to be pretty nice, fairly quiet sitting next to me and I don't know him, nor did I see much of his face aside from remembering that he had blond hair and blue eyes, and there are two pilots sitting in front of me, deadheading, and I do remember wondering why in the hell two pilots were sitting in the ass end of economy on a 57....but the dream didn't answer that for me.  It seemed to be an uneventful flight, and I remember looking out the window while listening to my iPod.

Suddenly, I remember seeing the ground coming up pretty fast.  My gut told me we were about to crash, even though the pilots hadn't warned anyone.  No one else around me could tell that we were crashing, except for the two pilots in front of me.  I remember lighting a Newport (haha!!) and telling the guy sitting next to me to get ready for the crash.  He laughed at me and told me to relax....we weren't going to crash.  I pointed at the window and told him to see for himself.

Then the pilot comes across the system telling all the passengers to prepare for a crash landing.  I remember the impact, and thinking to myself that it was the most graceful landing I've ever experienced.  Then panic set in because I realized all the bad things that "could" happen now that the plane was on the ground....were any of the fuel lines broken/cut....had any of the engines separated from the plane....was the plane about to explode into a massive fireball....why in the fuck is this plane still all in one piece??

If you've got no idea what a Boeing 757-300 looks like, Google a picture.  I guess the old school nickname was "The Flying Pencil" because its extremely long and thin looking from the outside.  I remember the pilot putting the plane in a tail-down attitude before impact....which is why I cannot figure out how the plane was still 100% intact post-impact.  It should have at least broken at a "pivot" point....but whatever.  Its all in a dream.

So, after I realize the plane is still all in one piece, and we're not on fire nor dying or anything of the like....its time to get the emergency doors open and get everyone the hell off this plane.  I remember going in front of the pilots (that were sitting in front of me) because the row directly in front of them was the emergency exit row....the pilots were still sitting in their seats, drinking coffee and laughing.  Wtf.  I opened the emergency exit on the left side of the plane first, then opened the emergency exit on the right.  I remember having the urge to run like hell, to push people out of my way and get the fuck off the plane....but I stayed and made sure everyone from the ass end of economy made it out first.  Then I looked up to the main body of economy and noticed their exits hadn't been opened yet, so that was next on my to-do list.

Before I headed up to the main body of the plane, I went back to my seat and grabbed my bags.  I had my constant travel companion - my black Louis Vuitton Murikami Speedy 45 and my purse (the current one I'm carrying.)  After grabbing my bags, I went up front and opened all the emergency exits and shuttled people out.  I kept telling everyone to get as far away from the plane as possible, just in case.

After everyone (including the pilots that were flying the plane) was out of the plane, I hopped out and called the plane crash into the local police department.  Then I stared at the plane for a long time....in disbelief that the big ass plane had managed to stay in one piece.  There was nothing more than a bunch of scratches on the plane....everything was still intact.  No engines were ripped off....the wings were still there, with the flaps in the landing position.  Unbelievable.



After waking up from that dream, of course I had to Google it.  It seems that this dream was my brain's way of telling me I'm having confidence issues, or that I feel like things that are out of my control are crashing down around me.  I'm guessing that since I live through the entire ordeal unscathed....this is telling me that things could be a hell of a lot worse.  Since the plane stayed completely intact, I feel that means that I need to stop stressing about these things, because I'm not having to deal with a bunch of cheap or easily broken things.

I could be completely wrong, and I'm probably waaaaaaaaaaaay off with this one....but screw it.  I lived through a plane crash.

Only in my dreams....

Rockstar kind of morning.

I would be one hell of a rockstar.  Or a rockstar's "girlfriend" (I use that term lightly because I'll be single for life, and also because Layne Staley is gone and he's the only rocker I'd have put my life on hold for.)  I run, like a machine, on very little sleep. Before you say it....yes.  I know its not the healthiest of lifestyles.  Trust me.

I abuse caffeine and nicotine, treating them as a junkie would treat her morning bump of heroin.  I typically go for a few weeks straight on ltitle more than 2 horus of sleep between days/shifts, then have a "crash-out" day where I'll sleep for 18 hours straight.  I maintain a shitty diet of peanut butter crackers, 90 calorie Kellogg's bars and sugarfree Rockstar....although every now and again I'll throw a salad or a steak into that mix (mostly when my hips hurt, since an old dance teacher used to tell me to go eat a steak when I'd slow down enough for her to realize my hips were killing me.)  I know its not healthy....but its my life.  Its my creation.  I keep waking up every day, sooooooooo until that stops this is what I'll be doing.

I daydream all the time.  I'm pretty sure its my subconscious way of trying to find my true place on this rock, yet at 29 I'm no closer to answering that question (what am I here for) than I was at 17.  Here and there, I've found myself working a job and telling myself "yeah, I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life" but hindsight being 20/20 I now realize that was another way for me to just deal with what the fuck was going on around me, because its a bit easier to get my ass out of bed when I can try to believe I actually like what I'm getting out of bed for.

Its getting far too hard to convince myself anymore.

I daydream about how things "should" be....should being the operative word here.  I have no damn clue how things should be, but I do know how I'd like them to be.  I daydream about waking up around 1800hrs in a house that looks small from the outside (looks are decieving....remember that) in the Queen Anne's Hill district of Seattle just to get ready to head out to a concert at some little shit-hole dive bar where everyone looks like they're on edge and coming down off the latest and greatest.  I daydream about being front and center at a huge nightclub with Deadmau5 and Sofi, partying and laughing and drinking sugarfree Rockstars and just living.

I daydream about living.  Just simply living.

One person knows exactly what I mean when I say that I daydream about living.  He's been my best friend for a lot of years, and has been by my side (literally) through a lot of terrible, horrible, stupid shit and that's never scared him off.  He does drop off the face of the earth from time to time, but over the years I've come to learn the pattern and his getting lost always coincides with his getting a new girlfriend and no matter how many times he tells me otherwise, I know its because these girls either don't like me or are threatened by me.  He hasn't met the right one, because the right one won't be threatened by me.  Anyways....he knows what I mean when I say I just want to live.  He's been further inside my mind than anyone else has dared to go, so he usually knows what's going on in there when I'm silent, when I'm mad, when I'm smiling but he can see my eyes are barely hiding what's really going on.  I hate him for it, for being able to read me like a book, maybe because no one else has been able to or because no one else has ever cared to try.  But as much as I hate him for it, I love him more than anything or anyone else because he's my best friend for no other reason than to be my best friend.  He's not in this friendship for personal gain or equity or anything....for any reason anyone else has been my friend over the years.  He's just here, I'm there, and that's just the way it is.

Well....its time to run to the gas station and pick up breakfast (sugarfree Rockstar) so I'll leave you all with this quote.  Its one of my favorites.

Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible. T.E. Lawrence.






Glad to be a daydreamer....