I like dreaming.
Dreaming, imagining, not being in the present moment – all the same thing.
Sometimes my dreams are amazingly lifelike and I wake up with a sense of longing to go back to them and live out my life in that situation. Not exactly situation, more of a, um, linear stream of things going forward from that moment in time? I have no idea.
Sometimes, they appear to be the product of an insane mind. This combined with the lifelike factor is unsettling, to say the least.
And at other times, after a particularly bad day, I wake up terrified with no idea of my dreams except for a faint sense of horror.
I’m thinking of starting a dream diary. Basically somewhere to note down my dreams and see if there’s a coherent pattern. I’m not sure what that’ll help me achieve but as long as it’s something to do, right?
When I can’t sleep, I think about stories. They always give me a warm and fuzzy feeling, like I’m hugging a teddy bear. I think about things that make me happy and I sometimes fall asleep. Not always, though. Those times I stare at the ceiling and curse my myopia. Who would’ve thought that a blurry ceiling induces regret, of all the emotions?
(at this very moment i want to hug this blog)
One of my worst dreams ever was one in which I was outside, walking somewhere. It was nighttime. Then I looked up. Everything was fine until I realised the moon was slowly growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger –
Then I woke up.
If the world’s going to end, that’s the worst way it could happen. Right now.
I have fallen in love with Sherlock and The Big Bang Theory and Doctor Who.
Jimon.
Johnlock.
(now to go read fanfiction. bye)
when in doubt (live) 