losing touch

Posted on Wednesday, April 18, 2007 @ 12:39:45 EDT in Dreams
by sixf00t4

there's major construction on the road i take home from work.  When i'm really tired, and i can tell it's going to be at least 90 minutes to get home based on where traffic is backed up, I'll pull into walmart parking lot and sleep.  This is what I did today.  Sometimes I sleep laying down across the bench of the truck, sometimes just reclining back in my chair, and today, I slept sitting as if i were driving, but laying over the middle console to my right.

In my dream, there was a lot going on before this moment.  But this moment, is the only thing that is worth talking about.  Really, it has nothing to do with the earlier parts of the dreams, the only thing in connection is the segway from what was going on previously.  That is, me and Sandra Bullock are trying to get away from something or someone.
   
    we're in a college building of sorts, we were running down a hallway of sorts and back into what seemed to be a lab room with high counters and wood cabinets.  when we get in there, we seem to have evaded what was chasing us for a second, and I look up at the cabinet, and there's this notebook pinned up against it.  On it, is really large sloppy writing, in what appears to be a child's hand writing.  It says my name.  There's something else on there, but I can't make it out.  It's familiar.  There was another mutual friend with us, and I look at him and I think it's his, and I say, "what is this?  why do you have this?"  and i'm getting the sense that he's kept this a secret from me, as if, this is something really important that I should have known about, or that he should have wanted to tell me about.  Sandra Bullock looks at it now, and she's remembering a little bit about it now too.  It's her writing.  We start to remember it was written a few years ago, when we first met back in college.  I ask her how old she is and she says 23, and I say I'm 24, and I said that I took a year off before going to college, and that this must have been from our freshmen year together in college.  And that I start getting hit with this intense memory of a relationship that was so amazing with this girl that was so amazing in my freshmen year.  For some reason, i remember having this great relationship, but no details at all about the girl.  I'm starting to realize it's Sandra.  She's having the same intense memories come back.  She fumbles around on the counter for something to write with and she grabs an automatic pencil that's not writing well, she's starting to get frantic to write something down, as if she is going to forget what she's thinking forever if she doesn't write it down.  I'm starting to get faint and light headed from the overwhelming rush of memories.  I'm trying to stay focused and i find a sharpie on the counter, and i'm urgently trying to help her write it down and make sure she gets it all, and i'm saying over and over "use the sharpie", and she's leaning over, writing on the notepad on her knees rapidly, trying to get it all down, and i'm slowly losing consciousness.  She starts yelling to me as she writes, "Wait Josh! Wait!, Hold on!" and i start to lean across her back, still mumbling something about making sure she writes it down using the sharpie, all this time the intense memories keep rushing.

Then, I wake up.  But my eyes are still closed and i don't move at all.  But i notice I'm breathing heavily.  Short deep breaths.  Then, I notice that i'm really crying.  not just sniffling crying, but nostril flaring, deep crying.  I pull myself together quickly.   I slowly sit up right, and my left hand is partially numb.  Which is weird, because the way i was laying, i'm not seeing how circulation was cut off to it.  What the heck was that?
 
 
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Re: losing touch (Score: 1)
by Runering on Wednesday, April 18, 2007 @ 18:36:07 EDT
(User Info | Send a Message) http://runering.deviantart.com

could possibly be your subconscious or something like that restricting the blood flow, like that weird "broken heart" condition





 
 

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