It was no dream...

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.
Ive never been able to think twice about dreams, for usually im too tired to question, or to wake up and write it all down. It's irritating how you remember dreams most when youre still asleep, Your half conscious brain relives and analyzes without your body stirring. As soon as youre awake, facing the light of the day, you roommate's bed lamp, or your computer screen, the words are lost and a puzzle is formed, with missing pieces and many holes.

What is perhaps even more curious, is what one seems to remember best from a dream, and why.Or, what we unknowingly fabricate, as we secretly jam a self-made piece that originally didnt fit. Then you become a story teller.

We were out. I remember I was with #10, Ogie, and three fictional girls. Funny enough, they all resembled annoyances from high school, and were all from Seattle. In this way, they were made relatable, and thus detestable. We were meant to be somewhere on campus, looking for a place to smoke, walking into a house which doesnt exist. Perhaps some type of party, the setting wasn't that of a fraternity or drunk college kids, but almost as a dinner party, where we were allowed to stay, and mostly unnoticed. The girls were really getting on my nerves. The cute blond wouldnt stop flirting with one of my boys, and all her friends wouldnt stop talking to me about it. What a sophomoric experience... Then came the altercation. The asian girl said something to me, along the lines of "arent they cute,' and playfully grabbed my side. In m altered state, i hit her back in the breast, and ended up being scratched along both arms. At one point I remember waking up and checking to see if the bloody marks were really there, or if i had simply been dreaming.

There was definitely a discussion about impending apocalypse. Probably inspired by table talk today, making light of the early 2010 trend of earthquake per month, tsunami off hawaii, and of course, the zombie apocalypse. I left the party at one point, and saw the heating unit near what i can only guess to have been a pipe releasing gas. I gathered my friends, obnoxious girls included, and we ran outside, off to our next stop. Losing my phone today, in my dream I was separated from #10, and couldnt call him, so went about the every-day routine of waiting around the breezeway.

As in writing, the line between the conscious and unconscious is often blurred. The hardest part of tonight to explain is how I kept waking up, and being convinced it was all real. I remember checking my right arm for blood, and finding none. I also remember thinking i had checked my clothing, and saw i was wearing the same bra as in the dream (which for some reason was important). Or talking to #10 at my desk, trying to explain my confusion.
DMT must be one hell of a trip.