last night there were dreams, and the fear crept back in,...fear of unfamiliar hands in the dark, of dead kitties in the hallway, little sticky pools of blood intermingling with mine.

but... this morning i woke alive, if not a bit perturbed. this is the third dream as of late about going completely crazy...which may or may not have something to do with the trip to boston...
this time boston brought with it no tears or anxiety...that was raleigh. fuckers.

in my dream i am living in an apartment with 10 or so people, bodies, that i do not really pay attention to. i walk around in a daze, touching the smoothe smoothe white walls, kissing the backs of my hands. everything is well/fine for a while, calm.

there is a disturbance of some sort, some big/mean boy pissing me off about something i can not remember ...but it is small, dishes or laundry or leaving a cup in the living room... i scream and pounce on him, knocking him to the ground -- at which point i recognize him as stinger. i pound on him with fists, crying about how he hurt me in high school... i do not really hurt him, but i want to. i am totally insane and can feel the crazy winning inside. TT runs over and tries to pull me off of the boy, calm me down, but he backs away when he gets a close look at me.

and another dream...

i am visiting uncledick in maine with a few friends. he tells us about an old playhouse, shakespeare-ian, and run down ...located on the tip of a near by penninsula. i am curious and we decide to walk over for a visit. the penninsula is mostly quadranted off by barbed wire and half built foundations of an industrial plaza.

we make our way inbetween the fences and arrive at what seems like a large pile of wood planks at the end, surrounded on 3 sides by the ocean. on closer inspection we see that there is a large, flat stage area, and that the planks are from the ceiling which is partially fallen in. i walk to the stage and sit on the edge, sketching the building in my sketch-book, but my hands begin to shake halfway through. i trace over wavy lines, trying to make them straight but soon give up out of futility.

the building is shaking as well, and suddenly we (my uncle a few random friends and i) are standing in the middle of a beautifully restored playhouse. actors call across the stage -- actors that look like us, but a bit shakey and see-through. the spirits drift over to us and combine with our bodies. we feel strange-ly wet inside and understand at once that our ancestors built this playhouse and something went terribly wrong here...the spirits need to rest.

and i wake, a bit confused, but shower and go through my life as normal.

*shrug*

heh.