7:57 PM me: i had this one dream where i cut open my stomach and watched worms devour my innards. i watched as the worms got bigger and bigger. woke up and thought "#dark"
7:58 PM me: you were in a dream maybe, but not that one
8:06 PM me: i wish i remembered the dream with you and not the worm one
8:11 PM me: in my dream with you i just remembered feeling happy
I think Macauley Culkin was in my dream.
Specfiically remember a brown cardigan, the exact shade of brown and the texture of it on my skin.
I had lots of dreams but none of them made me feel anything in particular. I saw people that were my friends but their faces had changed. I made up new friends in my head.
I woke up with a strange feeling, like every dream was a holocaust. Burnt bodies. I had seen my future, big truths, a revelation and forgotten all of it. What was left was a shell, and I put my body into it but it did not fit me. I tried to settle into its folds but it resisted, becoming clunky and metal and cold. It was one of those times where I could not remember anything I dreamt, and I was left with just a feeling. A ghost of something. I carried this feeling around with me all morning.
A gymnasium, a fair, a NYC apartment, my parent's house, a street, a field, a bus, a classroom. So many faces. Yours, saying words to me, just before I wake up and my heart stops.
I had a dream that I was back at high school, a dream that I have very often. Only it was more like some kind of poetry school, and we were knitting poetry or something. Seemed really cool. I remember walking through work, touching the bars of cages and the sound it made reverberated in my head. That sound woke me up.