I slept for one whole day this sunday. I wasn't sure if it was because I lack sleep last saturday, or because it was that time of the month so my puson kept me alseep due to the pain, or a combination of both.
I realized whenever this happens, I don't need to wake up to eat or drink. Such is the life of one who doesn't prioritize eating.
during my 24 hour comatose state, I dreamed - a lot. And as usual, when I woke up, I felt my head swimming with these dreams. I tried to grasp at them, trying to hold on to them long enough to revisit them one by one. But as I've already learned thousands of waking moments before, it's a futile task.
I already tried to keep a dream journal before. I had it on my bedside table, ready whenever I wake up. But I can never finish writing one dream. The story line is always smudged. I just knew what I felt like and bits and pieces of what happened. And I can never put into words these fragmented parts of the dream before it vanishes completely from my consciousness. It was frustrating, to say the least, to not be able to remember in full detail what my mind has created during my sleep. I always feel cheated in some way, that I should have some sort of control over what I can remember when I wake up.
I shouldn't be complaining that much. I am a dreamer, and I like that about me. I dream and I dream vividly. Save for the fact that I cannot usually remember enough when I wake up, my dreams are perfect. They make me feel like I read an interesting story when I wake up and this makes me feel special.
Dreams are a great big part of what makes my life interesting.
addictive and the images that are created in one's mind the like and dislike-ness of an image; the obscure, the observance, the 'is' and 'isn't' between the possibilities of an image how an image's "reality" is forced elsewhere, for psychological means. Distant memories. Anti-photography as a kind of "what if"? |
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