( Old dreams for Nehket )

I find myself in the bardo* once again. It seems the spirit, consciousness, or will, whatever we are latches onto an object or a stage, though like it were a red hot stone in a closed hand, it must be let go of, and there is a terrible pain of losing and yet an awesome soothing; a freedom. There is also an excitement of finding a new object, but ( Read more... )

Sting is my kindred spirit. Oneday I'm gonna learn to play the piano, then there will be music to my sadness. Either the piano or the voilin. Maybe both. "Oh, how I need someone to watch over me." -- I'd love to play it on my beautiful old piano, which would rest against the wall by the stairs in my big lonely mansion. And perhaps I'd wear a white ( Read more... )

There's a saying old says that love is blind ( Read more... )

Had an interesting dream last night. One of my best friends from like two years ago, Laura, was in it. Brief History: Laura, by appearance, is the typical hot blonde chick. She's silly, crazy, artistic (her sketches are awesome; she's gonna be a fashion designer someday) and sweet and innocent-looking, heh. Anyway, we used to be great friends back ( Read more... )

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I'm glad of who I am. I've often dulled myself for others. I've let my personality be flexible, out of fear of rejection. But fuck you all, that's over now. No one has power over me. Just as the parrot I threw to the sky, I may die but I am free.

Practicality is the jailer of dreams.

Practicality dulls the spirit.

Last night's dreams have faded much already. I know there was magic involved: people were turning themselves into insects for various reasons, and my grandma had to cast spells for them to reverse it. Since insects can't speak, I suppose it's hard to cast an undoing spell once you are one. I woke up several times in the night, at least, I think I ( Read more... )