the drilling, baby. it will give you a reason.
I have these things, dreams, connected by moments, memories. Each one a story compounded one on top of the other. I was working last night, prancing around behind the bar, same shit, and the trigger hit. Strangely, much like my dreams most of the time, the trigger is something I could not tell you. My face fell and I started pacing up and down and up and down. And there were moments caught in the back of my throat like words not ready to be born. One of my coworkers Joe asked if I was ok. I old him that I was stuck in the middle of some realizations, these dreams I have been having all of my life, since a little girl. I have no idea what they mean, how they are connected, but I can tell you the revealing of them in my consciousworld ALWays makes me start crying. It happened to me on a number of occasions with master boh bee, jizephabobo, and I would just sink down to my knees on whatever concrete or asphalt surface we were traversing, and cry. He always thought I was cracko, but the flood of deja-vu always was enough to send me reeling.
So I told Joe, my theory, about my dreams, that they were all spun together in some way, that if I could remember them in my conscious life I would know what I am supposed to do, I would have some more answers. Maybe a fitting fairy tale to scare you? Anyhow, as quickly as they seeped to the surface like cream, the instances were erased from memory. Perhaps they were of a past life or a congruent space I am floating around in simulataneously? Either way, I need to pull them out of my head, and stick them on paper where I can elaborate and fulfill the destinies implied. The problem is they are almost not worth an explanation in written language. Seems the only thing fitting would be a song. Lyrically I am almost there. BING BING BING!! This came on karaoke night, but as I scrape my memory for any kind of residue of what was going on at the time it happened, it was not someone singing.
Fuck it. I need a fucking creative brain cleaning to make room for the new stuff. All these old dreams and visions have been clouding my existence since I was no older than 4 or 5 years old. And strangely, I never feel as though I am getting older. I am always just me.
I guess I need a hypnotist.
