Land of the Waterfalls
September 4, 1995
There’s this dream I keep having again and again. It’s so different from all my other dreams. For one, it’s in black and white, most of the time my dreams consist of color. It’s also the same dream every time, things just keep on repeating themselves. I’ve had dreams that are continuations of before, but never the same exact dream. It’s one of those dreams that feel so realistic and stays with you all day. In this case, the realism was quite enjoyable. I can’t recall the events occurring in the dream, it’s doubtful there were any. I just remember the emotions in the dream being so strong and effective. My surroundings are fairly vivid, and that’s where I stayed throughout the dream. Waterfalls were everywhere, that’s all there was. This place consisted of nothing but waterfalls and I’m the only sign of life. I didn’t feel scared or alone, I felt at peace. The whole time I’m just sitting on the ground right in the middle of one of the many waterfalls. it feels so healing, and I never leave, I just wake up. I’d like to go back tonight, but I doubt that the dream will ever return. It was nice while it lasted though. I wonder if it means anything sub-consciously. The waterfalls could be metaphors of purity cleansing my body from dirt, reviving myself back to health. you never know about dreams. They might hold the answers to so many unsolved problems. I, myself, could hold the key that opens the door to truth.
Death of a Friend
September 23, 1995
I found out today that my best friend, Julie, passed away this morning. We’ve been friends since 7th grade. She’s the first person I met when I moved here (to Humble) several years ago. I would definitely consider her my sister. We did grow apart in the last year but we always managed to keep in touch. I used to do everything with her, she even lived with me for a while. As false as this may sound, I somehow knew it would happen. it still came as a shock, but I often wondered about something like this happening.
A few nights ago I had this dream and I can’t help but think that there’s a connection somewhere. It was my life five years ago and I was at school with all my old friends. Me, Julie, Rachel and Heather were the closest in the group. In the dream we’re all sitting in the cafeteria being loud and obnoxious as usual. What I don’t understand is why the dream even took place. I wasn’t thinking of them at all that day. One person was missing though, Julie wasn’t in the dream. I can almost guarantee she will be in my dreams tonight. I guess I’m still in disbelief, but her death was a freakish event. Rachel called me with the bad news and not long after she came to pick me up. We went over to the family wake which is always a disturbing experience. Julie was wearing a real pretty dress but I know she wouldn’t like it. Her hair was done up just how she would have had it, but her face was different. Of course her skin was pathetically pale, but her lips and her eyes were not even recognizable. They looked swollen and her face was so skinny. She looked fake, just like that of a wax figure. Her once pregnant stomach was back down to it’s normal size. The baby is in stable condition but nobody thinks his chances of survival are very high. He is two months early and not able to breathe on his own yet. Tomorrow they’ll be taking him off the respiratory machine and I guess that will determine his fate.
Julie never got to see her baby. She died of a heart attack in the early morning hours of the day. The night before she had been having chest pains and even went to the doctor for it. He said it was nothing, gave her some pain pills, and sent her back home. She took a hot bath to relieve the pain and ended up staying awake for the remainder of the night. The next morning she took another hot bath and that’s when the heart attack hit her. She was revived once but not for very long. She was eighteen.
I get the feeling I’m going to carry this for a long time. I’ve never been able to handle death very well. Right now, it’s about four in the morning and I’m beyond tired. For some reason, I’m dreading sleep, maybe because I fear dreaming. I admit I haven’t been sober all night, but who wants to be at times like this? None of it seems real. Somehow I doubt that it ever will. I just keep on saying it over and over again, “I just can’t believe that Julie’s dead. She’s really gone. She’s really dead.”
Untitled
May, 1996
Never before have I felt this distant from life. I find myself standing on the outskirts of what seems to be the very thing I need. It feels as though it shall never be mine, it shall never be me. I’m fooled every time by this betrayal not even acknowledged by the “enemy”. I allowed this situation to affect me in such a painful way.
Black-eyed Pea
September 23, 1996
Today mom and I went out to eat at the Black-eyed Pea and I saw my old friend, Julie. Funny thing is, she’s been dead for a year now. In fact, it was a year ago today. She was a waitress, can you believe, and looked the same as she always did. A stranger of course, but the resemblance was eerie. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her, it was like the Twilight Zone. She asked for my order and smiled that same smile, talked the same, walked the same walk. Her height, weight, blonde shoulder length hair, wide-open blue eyes, even that same crooked nose was the same. My expression of disbelief was quite obvious and she read through me like an old friend does, she knew! No words were spoken about it, but I could feel a connection. There is absolutely no way to explain this as a coincidence, or just imagination, this was real, even mom knew it, she saw it! I can never go back there again, the encounter is already driving me insane. I mean, I was just getting on with my life and now my dreams will be haunted for another long year.
Dream #3
November 7, 1996
I was in a strange unknown house, I think it might have belonged to Judy. Maybe I lived there because I had my own room and it seems that the only thing in the room was a bunk bed. At first I was lying in the bottom bunk, but later on in the dream for some reason it was a must for me to sleep at the top. It was there that I remember looking up and seeing the stars move across the sky at a steady pace and it felt like I was moving through or with them.
Dream #4
December 20, 1996
I’m with the old gang (Julie wasn’t there) at the skating rink and Eric Griebel is all of the sudden sitting next to me except it didn’t look like him. Next thing I know I’m somewhere else, the mall I think, and Eric is still with me, he’s totally obsessed with me! He asks me if I want to go do some cocaine and I decline. This keeps up for a while until all of the sudden Jena comes into the picture. Eric starts asking her if she wants to do some cocaine and she says yes. They become an item and I end up going to Eric telling him that I’ll do cocaine with him. He tells me the concert ticket I have can be traded in for cocaine. After that I start feening for coke but I’m never able to find any. Now we are all over at Jaren’s house, including Eric, doing absolutely nothing. When I get up and go to the window I see that a tornado is heading straight towards the house. I warn everyone but nobody pays any mind. Right before the tornado strikes it becomes some guy and he just steps in from the window. I ask him what just happened he says “nothing” and states that he is hungry. Jaren goes to the phone, orders KFC, and a big bucket of chicken appears in his hands.
Circle
January 1, 1997
The answer lies within my friend, within my head I’ve been misled, into this dream I shall be seen, I shall be seen in mystic gleam, and all is well with me tonight, for sudden fright is now delight, and all is fake as I’m to take this burning at the stake.
The truth is blind in every eye, where mountains reach the highest sky, truth is blind when love is weak, run to hide too high to seek. Forever surely seems too long, eternity shall sing my song, for every day we’re still alone, in every way we live to own.
Verses
January 1997
In silence I send to you what was needed from years ago. Accept me as I have done for creation will slip away.
Was today the day that I would see another time that used to be? Will tomorrow become the past today if sun is moon and moon is ray?
A laugh I hear in hidden space, with rhythm and rhyme it echoes. A cry is left it total disgrace, with measure and time it bellows.
I must see what I now know, to ignore would never come about. If I leave to save a life, could it be possible to vanish another? Never shall I go back after striving all this time.
Today we came to be free in no other way from times of before. Here I am in total absent shield, accept what I never cared for.
Together is never true. Believe what you think to know inside. Always listen. What you see is fake as well as what you hear. Learn from the past. We are always alone but loneliness doesn’t have to be. I love to love myself.
Nothing must stand in the way, this is what I’ve always wanted. Not fear, nor love, loneliness or even time!
Dream #5
January 1, 1997
Two of my old friends from the sixth grade were walking down the street with their heads bowed in prayer. I was riding in a car staring out the window at them and Julie’s presence entered the dream. I don’t remember seeing her, but I could just feel her there, like the dream was based around her. Everything was in slow motion.
Within
1997
Within you shall always lie a connection. I am and forever will be an outcast watching vanity and discomfort pass me by without missing a beat. How could all that was important become forgotten in the blink of an eye? This contains no value anymore. I do not find happiness in a common place, or meaning from casual conversation. But outside of one-track minds I find comfort within you. History is my mentor and he has taught me what to remember and cherish. He told me my position in every single battle and showed me the future. I am letting go for selfish reasons, and within a circle I remember why. The tone changes in every tale taking on a new and somewhat bitter form that has no real explanation. I am cut short in most happenings and undiscovered in others. Never finding the right moment to speak, and even if found what words could deliver? It takes a lot to admit to deep emotions and dangerous tendencies, but denial is so believable I’m still not giving in.
Verses
February 1997
In another world I was as free as free could be. In this other time I was as young as young could be. In a different life I was as me as me could be. 2/6/97
Remember me in unknown centuries to come, for I was the forgotten genius as a mortal. 2/6/97
He had the insanity of a crazed man with way too much insight, and he shared it with the rest of the world, they still couldn’t hear. 2/6/97
And still as night creeps in and dreams are clear; she lingers with the grace of an animal. 2/6/97
This is a prayer for you my stranger friend, I love what you had to give. Sadly I relate to a tragic end, for it could have been me as much as anyone; it could have been me but it had to be you. 2/7/97 (Verse for River)
I have only just begun to see what I believe, for it has always been since the beginning of my time and I know no other way. 2/8/97
Lazy daze is in my head forever and after the end. 2/8/97
Verses
February 1997
It is my disposition in society that not only attributes myself to being an outsider, but is also the reason for my insight. 2/17/97
I am still not satisfied. The forced behavior, false awareness, wasted education, what has it got to do with life and me? 2/17/97
We do not change; we only pretend to be what isn’t real. I would love to share what I know, but it is mine to enjoy alone. 2/23/97
I know that depression is to come. In the near future my demon will be faced and conquered. I hope that life will be worth it. I hope that I will be worth it. 2/23/97
For myself, it is not as easy as portrayed, so I shall keep this mountain in silence. 2/23/97
I have become stuck so deep inside myself that I’ve forgotten how to exist as a citizen of the human race. 2/24/97
Tribute to Death: Remember Time
February 24, 1997
I will remember as no one else can, remember the dead who shall live. In far away dreams heaven is near, my heaven who has not a soul. Frozen time is all around, time is never fast as time is never slow, a month in a year is all we know. Time is always fast as time is always slow, in minute after hour we will go. She hands me my youth again and again, as he turns me on with a look all his own. Remember time with a smile, to forget will surely kill. I will remember time with a tear, is life really all we have here? Remember time by the hour, in a second we have come to a year.
Verses
February/March 1997
And before I heard, I knew. Not in an instant, but rather in a second the words flashed into my head. I could swear I knew before I even realized I knew. 2/25/97
Have the faces changed, the looks transformed, eyes judging in a different manner? Could I just see now what has always existed? 2/25/97
Instant reaction is delayed. Windows to a soul are closed. Nothing makes sense anymore. 2/26/97
It was all in good fun, a smile here, a laugh there; happiness was felt but still remained ignored. 2/26/97
Life has remained in limbo for much too long. Another day is how I live, like an ignorant human I believe the promise of tomorrow. 2/29/97
I now know what I must do, to accomplish the impossible, a task so many times avoided. Yes, once again I give in. 3/1/97
She finds me when I stand to sit alone, like a shadow who will walk beside and behind. 3/14/97
Who does not know me as I know me, as I think, hear and feel, as I dread, hurt and heal? Is it company, in and among company that renders you into a state of total oblivion? What does it mean anyway, and if even at all, why should it matter to me? 3/14/97
In the past it was all about life and how to go about living it. Now, it is all about me and how I’m going to live with it. 3/14/97
I’m not saying it’s how I was brought up, though it could have something to do with my mental anguish. Blame is not the issue in this case. As it most likely seems to you that I am a zombie with no personality and no opinions on any aspect of life, the opposite ironically stands to be true. What you seem to not understand is what you yourself actually deals with every second of your own life as well. It isn’t as easy as you fake it to be. To have a total different view of self-concept but yet still suffer in the same way, we mimic each other. 3/15/97
Mysterious Man
March 17, 1997
Yesterday on the way to pick up Jena for school I saw the same familiar man I have seen two other times in my life, once when I was eight and again when I was twelve. Each time I saw him in a different place, but yet it was still the same. 1960 runs on forever for all I know but that is where I see him, walking down 1960. He carries a huge wooden cross on his back with a wheel attached to the bottom of it. I’ve always wanted to go talk to him but I can never get up enough nerve to do so. I want to know why he does that, and how long he plans on doing it. Instead of talking to him I just drove by and held up a peace sign. He probably thinks I flipped him off.
Joker
March 25, 1997
Simply fantasy. Simply fiction. Simply fascinating. In such a monotone way I speak, with eyes looking every direction but forward. Fools to him – every single one! To read, to see, to hear is what they lack. A grin from cheek to cheek, like the Cheshire cat, appear then disappear. One shoe on, one shoe off, hunched over in hysterics laughing at you with a pathetic smirk revealing satisfaction. He watches me I fear. Fast asleep with only the mechanical wind for a lullaby, he hovers above me snickering at my foolish state of vulnerability, laughing, mimicking. Simply dreadful. Simply deceitful. Simply devastating. He listens with precise sharpness of understanding and apathy that I believe, I follow. Simply a joker is all I find. Simply a liar of his own kind, but just how simply joyful was the simple joker?
Wasting Time
March 30, 1997
At first the question was why, then what, now it is how? After days, months, years of mental anguish eating at me every living second of my life, I still have yet to overcome. The good thing is that I am not suffering from depression (as much) anymore, now it is total confusion. What I do know is to try and lose myself in every way possible. When the chance comes to make a connection with another soul, I find myself buried so deep in my paranoid thoughts of ludicrous character guessing techniques that I miss the opportunity. I listened to that statement more closely than you had anticipated, what was it? You told me in so many words that I hated all people, that I disliked everyone I came in contact with. Is this really the way you perceive me to be? After all this time could it be you never understood who I was, who I am? Could I actually be that misleading in my ways? Being around you while you are alone with me I realize how different we are when congregating with others. I too am guilty of putting on an act in certain company. While we judge the world and accuse our race of false behavior, we forget to acknowledge our own convictions. Hypocrisy is my most hated trait in a human being, but as I have come to find out, we are all guilty of it. What the difference is explains the situation clearly. I can admit to my fault as you will deny what obviously exists. Where did we go wrong in communication? How do we overcome what has placed itself between us? Can we ever listen? So I finally came to the conclusion that if I wasn’t going through this major catastrophe, it would be something else.
Verses
March 1997
Words do nothing for me now. How can I express myself in a way that they will understand, that they will listen and hear what I am feeling? 3/26/97
I can tell by the look in your eye that I will not be who you expect me to be. It is most likely my doings that will lead you to this conclusion, but then again, I have absolutely no insight into your ways of thinking. In a group of friends I appear to be the stranger despite the many times we have graced each other in the past. Friendship is a long process. 3/30/97
It is my time to live. 3/31/97
Role Playing
April 3, 1997
By the time you reach me I will be so far into imagination that my existence will soon be forgotten. Inspire in me what I need to become successful in life. As I write I feel myself disappear at the same time. Where we laugh at ourselves for being who we are, talk to the invisible man who we love, and become intimate with the only person we know is where we shall find our true self. This face that you see is not really me, nor has it ever been. An illusion is created by every living soul we meet causing the false image to be perceived as true. With my eyes I can see through your eyes and in that split second the illusion is destroyed leaving me with a clear path to follow. In most cases, I choose not to. Slowly, I become aware of what it means to sacrifice my peace of mind in order to advance. As we cannot love without hate, or live without dying, it is impossible for us to be a consistent human being without mimicking another. The solution is almost here, but what else will take the place of this strife? Today I feel trendy and actually fit in where I was an outcast before. In that same day I will become outdated, anti-social, over-popular, and mysteriously quiet. All of these different faces belong to me and I can’t really say which one I would prefer to be always. So in the midst of a crowd within myself how can I really tell who the true “me” is? All in all nobody is who they claim to be. Each and every one of us is guilty of role playing.
Untitled
May 10, 1997
The more I think the less I know. Conscious awareness is the worst possible trap to fall into. Every moment made, word spoken, and glance that connects to an eye is fake. Paranoia, nervousness, panic attacks, it’s a death sentence, and just like the will to live, it becomes second nature.
Timeless Trivia
May 12, 1997
Tonight I sit here alone in the same manner as I do every night. With my legs crossed, hunched over on the floor with a pen in hand waiting for a verse or two, I search my world for meaning to this timely routine. Words with rhythm but no rhyme, rhyme but no rhythm, it becomes so technical my spirit retreats along with my creativity. What was it that gave me the will to succeed, the will to survive and to fight for what I believe in? In recent days I cannot seem to get it together in terms of social affairs and personal affairs, which in all actuality, is what life is mainly about. Friends and family keep us in tune with reality no matter how far gone we appear to be, they will not let us fade. Personal thoughts, feelings, secrets and attachments are only a few of the self-contained variables that we live with each day wondering if they are morally correct, or psychologically sane. How then am I supposed to get by with such a long list of untold confessions that not even a piece of lined paper will behold?
Gradual Me
May 15, 1997
Gradual can’t you see that it’s me? I’ve fallen behind in time. Personal pain has taken my sane, you ask me how, no, I’m just fine. Reflection denied from my very own eye, it seems I have let me go. Creation is weak, I care not to speak for words will refuse to flow.
Gradual me from a beauty in sight, a face now unworthy of light. Gradual me to redeem not again, it’s lonely where I have been. Too lonely here where I’ve been.
Gradual find me in space still unknown where vanity lives in the head, as if in a dream by chance it will seem that I am already dead. Like an alien being or an outcast in sin, I hide and I take it within. Look at me now in my days of somehow I’ve turned into fear I am dim.
California Tree
May 1997
Your eyes frighten me but I can’t look away for my insecurity would show through. I face the north, dream of west, ignore east, and call south home. Curious stares I perceive as hatred to be something near like judging plates that have absolutely no significance. This tree is naked with pink skin smooth where hair used to be and slightly wrinkled where her arms extend outward. Almost human among the presence of others looking to be her kind, but she is different, she is an outsider.
Verses
June 1997
I see age taking over where it never existed before. How do you watch an old friend die? From the days of a child to the years of adulthood, honesty is the main ingredient. 6/9/97
Your character changes and I accept it, I even enjoy it just like old times. Age has no limits so it seems after all these years we accomplish what was so often talked about. In silence I continue with passion and love for a play that has always existed and once again I am not alone. We live off one another. 6/10/97
One more year and what have I become? The same as I was yesterday and a year before the sun. 6/97
Teenagers
June 19, 1997
This is not forever as nothing ever is, but what would even matter if it was? I hear you’re leaving westward, in a moment time was dear, take me with you next time, your pain is mine to fear. I have only this life, this hand is my escape, in voice I have to pretend as my mind is there to waste. In you I have my fantasy where soul and spirit meet, in you I have tomorrow as children of today, like age is non-existent, my dreams have all been met. Blood became transparent as there lives no meaning to this timeless love for creation known only in ours heads. And still I stand alone as I have always been, I fear to live alone in life I fear the dead. What was there to forgive, the past is nothing less, like your loveliness in form, there is more than what is seen. I have seen most everything.
Verses
June 25, 1997
I feel so apart from you now, and I curse time for opening his eyes and casting a deadly stare upon us where youth was the only present in the past. Away is a dream in a daily routine where mountains exist and freedom is breath, yet to dwell in the confines of hell until death is upon, I venture to travel beyond this reality shell.
Invention
July 9, 1997
I have this great idea in my head just waiting to be witnessed and performed in a way that even I could never pull off in a million years. Sitting here in silence I catch a glimpse of a less attractive way of spilling the truth without words or actions. Addiction since the age of innocence will always haunt the soul who invented this drug. I have feared this gift in so many entries that it freaks me out the way in a split second reality and fantasy come together to form this whole other realm of gifted fiction and hidden pleasure.
Role Play
July 10, 1997
And after all it was probably more about you than it was me. I live in that state of mind always, so naturally I am forever there. I see and hear the lines and the only words I can comprehend are me. I should feel excited and not alone but it is just the opposite for I am not special, or gifted, you can do the same thing, maybe even better. So, in the end it is about action, it is about belief, and it was never about me.
Dream #6
August 1, 1997
I awoke to a loud clap of thunder and the first thing that went through my head was, “oh no, I fell asleep, I missed my visiting time with Kirk.” Another burst of thunder echoed through the house sending chills up my spine. I peered through the window and became hypnotized by the daytime sky. A hallway of rolling black clouds hanging so close to the ground one would need to duck in order to avoid contact. My gaze is broken by the formation of an all too familiar funnel being cast down from the blackness of the sky. “Tornado!” I scream, running out of my room. “There’s a tornado coming,” but nobody pays any mind. I grab my cat and dog, run to my mom’s closet (which is much smaller than usual) and wait for the funnel to pass. When I stepped out of the closet confident that the danger had passed, I saw my aunt sitting in a rocking chair in front of a broken window. She didn’t speak, she just rocked back and forth. I suddenly wake up, look out the window, and the whole episode occurs again.
Verses
August 5, 1997
In the shade I still cannot relax. My mind is never blank like I wish it would be for constant thoughts only lead to confusion.
There’s a fine line between fantasy and reality, right? Imagine if that line has been erased.
Roots
August 10, 1997
I fear that I have lost the ability to love. I mean, I know I love my family and my friends so maybe love is the wrong word. Sometimes I just have a hard time caring about what someone else is saying. Words go through one ear and out the other as I just sit there in a daze thinking about myself, my own problems, and how much I just don’t care. I hate that about myself. Why can’t I just listen and forget about myself long enough to actually hear? Like two years ago when I came to the conclusion that the answer is to lose yourself as much as possible and only then will piece of mind come, only then will I find myself, and it still seems that it should be the thing to do. I just can’t figure out how.
Dream #7
August 18, 1997
I had another dream about Julie last night. It’s been almost two years since her death and I don’t cry about it anymore but it still haunts me. This time she had been brought back from the dead, only it was not her. She looked the same and everything but her personality was different. It was like she was retarded and had no concept of anything. I kept thinking, “what have we done?” It felt like a scene from Pet Cematary only Julie wasn’t demonic or evil, she was just so simple and flat out annoying. I could feel myself growing resentful and bitter towards her. I just wanted her to disappear. I literally hated her very existence.
Jude #7
August 19, 1997
Quite often I find myself gazing upward remembering the year of lost innocence, not just for me but for everyone who followed. I believe that we had so much in common but I cannot be sure as I know only what I see and hear. Too many times have taken me back to false happiness and it is there that I feel closest. What a shallow statement to make, but not if perceived in the right manner. It is during these “phases” that depression is at its worst and the need for an escape is mandatory. There is no dark side, there is no hidden secret, there is no false identity, it was nothing more than human nature and society as we know it is ignorant to believe otherwise. Death can do so much for an ego and isn’t it ironic how a person can become a legend only after life is over? Come on, and I thought I was being shallow for considering drug use as means of a connection. Beauty was obvious, and from this beauty we expect perfection, we believe in the impossible, and when it became painfully aware that perfection cannot be obtained, we criticized. Not even in that famous circle could reality find his way, it’s like the eye of a hurricane, in the middle there is only oblivion. Like every other face in the crowd I was left in disbelief, finding answers leading to homicide rather than a simple series of mistakes. Yes, it was all too much, but using death as an excuse for money and ratings only concludes my theory. We thrive off misery and misfortune, and like vultures, we glide through the sky waiting for tragedy to fall to the earth and then we race to finish the remains.
Untitled
August 23, 1997
I had a dream you were God. My fear was with you and your sacred heavens where eternity was nothing more than one day.
Release
August 31, 1997
And of course you don’t belong. How could you possibly fit in with a circle that has no opening? You wouldn’t let them in anyhow and then wonder why nobody listens when speech finally occurs. After a while the ears don’t hear the words from a nameless face with eyes holding no expression to speak of. Yes, my friend, it is your fault but I will understand for we are what we are and only here can we release.
Forgotten
September 1, 1997
Saturday was the last I imagine, for us anyway. I still continue alone with your presence in mind and anticipate our meeting to continue where the scene was left off, but three days and three nights without such pleasure has left my mind in limbo and I can’t bring myself to tell you or ask you for such closure. I went into such intricate detail but have not yet informed you of my obvious obsession with such a delicate gift we have shared since early years of childhood. Our return was a tease and maybe my analysis of this connection was only fantasy. I felt what I wanted to feel, and saw what I wanted to see; of course I’m the only one, but you were there for a split second.
To Be Continued
September 2, 1997
When you stare at a familiar face long enough it transforms into a stranger leaving you to wonder how well you really know this person. September is here again and the memories of Julie are worse than usual as death makes his presence known all over again as if my memory had forsaken me. Princess Diana died in a car accident about two nights ago which put the entire world in a state of shock. It just comes so quickly sometimes and no matter who you are, life is just suddenly stolen in a second’s time. Some photographer had taken pictures of the four passengers inside the mangled car after the wreck and chances are they will be sold to some tabloid magazine for at least a million dollars. When River Phoenix died a photograph was taken of him in the funeral home. Some guy snuck in late at night, opened up the casket, placed a smile on River’s lips and sold the picture for $25,000. I remember seeing it on the cover of National Enquirer with the words “This is what drugs will do” printed underneath it. I ripped the magazine up when I saw it at the store, man I just lost it.
A couple of nights ago I had this dream that was so real in detail yet so awkward in presence. It was a normal day at my house and as I was leaving the confines of my room I heard mom and Kirk talking down the hall and there was this weird clicking sound that caught my attention. I went over to see what it was and there was Kirk sitting on the floor loading a gun with mom just standing there nonchalantly talking about the weather for all I know. I asked Kirk what he was doing and he tells me that there’s this huge black guy shooting off an automatic outside. I go to look out the window and this huge black guy turns out to be a little boy, he still has the automatic but he’s like only nine years old. We all three go outside and proceed to stand on the sidewalk just watching him shoot it off. He goes over to my neighbor’s house (who is a preacher), rings the doorbell, and when Dr. Fritz opens the door, this kid shoots him in the head. The dream takes on a different form from there. I find it extremely odd that I would dream about Dr. Fritz for I never talk to him and it’s not like I was thinking about him that day. Three days later mom calls me in Bay City and tells me that Kirk had wrecked her new car last night and he basically had a nervous breakdown. Mom went over to Dr. Fritz’s house with Kirk at four in the morning to pray for him and all that jazz. Next thing you know, Kirk is down on his knees crying and praying and proclaims that tomorrow morning he is going to church to be baptized by Dr. Fritz, and he did. I know the dream I had is connected to this occurrence in some way, but I have yet to grasp the meaning. I’m in an extremely depressed mood and the reason why scares even me. On the way back from Bay City I realized that I had forgotten my pillow and from then on my mood went from disappointed to suicidal. My pillow is like a security blanket to me but being that I’m twenty years old I should be able to handle sleeping three nights without it! Twenty years old and I feel like I’m thirteen. I’ve never had a job, my career is undecided, and I’m starting to doubt my ability to pass all my courses this term in school. I’ve never had a real boyfriend and friends just don’t seem to exist anymore. So, I’m at the end of yet another journal and plans to start a new one are somewhat inspiring. I have this idea to get my journals published and put them on the market one by one kinda like a series of the Hardy Boys (bad example). My life would literally be an open book, and personally I relish the idea.
The Apple and the birdcage 