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nanowrimo 2010

Louderblog

Diary of a Blind Madman

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dreams and bad fish
nanowrimo 2010
louderback
Luca Brasi being strangled
I — unlike Luca Brasi — cannot sleep with the fishes

         The above is my way of saying that I really don't want to have fish (cod) fillets again soon. Two fillets produced a night of misery and dreams. Between trips to the bathroom I had a couple of real doozies of dreams.

         In the first dream I was some sort technician at a very aerospace/NASA sort of place. I kept abusing my authority to use some immense device the size of a very large building and made entirely of crystal to look for something. People kept talking about me behind my back but I pushed ahead relentlessly. I kept thinking to myself, "I can get them back!"

One morning, when the sun was particularly bright, I pointed the building, telescope, device, whatever it was at exactly the right spot and a huge beam of light filled the place. Gravity was nullified and everyone began floating. Machines began exploding (as they always do in science fiction movies) and I began unreeling a thin steel cord from my waist. It had a ball about the size of a golf ball at the end of it.

As the cord extended away from me I began to spin and eventually I was spinning at an astounding speed. The cord was impacting all kinds of things destroying them as it passed through. Eventually the ball at the end reached the walls and began smashing them. The light that filled the place sort of exploded and I fell to the ground (along with everything and everyone else) and was overjoyed to learn that I had accomplished my goal. I had them back. They were about a dozen over-sized aggies (marbles)

         Hope my shrinkologist doesn't read this.

         My second dream was much longer, but takes less time to relate. I was marching with an army. I went through a wide variety of the trials and troubles of infantry soldiers. Eventually we reached an ocean and could march no further. We set up camp in green tents. While we were camped there I spent most of my time cooking. The dream ended when someone asked me for bread.

abstract image of psychotherapy

         Hope my shrink doesn't read that one either. Actually I am thinking of foregoing my session with Dr. Flenser. They have become just chat, conversation and in no sense therapy. On the other hand I don't want social security to take not of the fact that I'm not in therapy and decide I'm "cured". *sigh*

         No poetry, freewriting, or recipe today. I guess I'm just lazy.

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I'll vouch to SS for you...you're obviously a demented individual. HA!

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