I had a dream about a child. This child was nude and deathly pale, however it looked as though to be a normal infant, and he/she was sitting on what seemed to be on a black blanket, in a room with black walls. As I approached the baby, I feel it noticed my presence, yet ignored me entirely. Initially, I could not tell what the baby was doing. After a short while, I came to realize that it was playing with gems of various shapes and sizes that were strewn about its feet. The gems were vivid, vivacious, all-around gorgeous, which made the idea of them being a child’s plaything all the more ludicrous.
Somehow the closer I got, the larger the infant seemed to become; he/she did not age nor did it actually grow, I believe my perspective in relation to it was what changed. Standing near it I realized that the baby was actually miles high, the gems with which it was playing were actually close to my own height, if not larger, and the black carpet/walls were nothing but empty space. The child was placing the gems nonchalantly into space wherever it felt they should reside and there they would hang, sparkling into the dark. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to its means but the child seemed to be content with the end, which was all the justification that was needed. I sat in wonder, watching this go on for what seemed like years, until the entire room was covered in stars, suns, and various other celestial bodies.
Once I realized that the child must have been my personification of creation. Not my blasphemous creationist theories, but how I would create things through my life. I had no care about the method, just as long something came from it.
All night, I’ve been doing two things… browsing a blog about sex and listening to metal. A bad combination apparently.
I feel as though I am putting my creativity on hold by not making music and I feel like I’m missing my sexual prime. I am in the best shape of my life, I can go nowhere but up, and I am not taking advantage of it. There are reasons for this, but it is an issue nonetheless…
I miss making music, in both regards, but they both involve other people who are not around, unfortunately
I hate my father. Not Mr. Smith, I would be ashamed to call myself the son of any other man, but Carlton Stafford my birth father. Though I have never met this man, I have nothing but a loathing for him, which I believe to be completely justified. What bothers me wholeheartedly about the entire situation is the fact that I will never know whether or not this disdain should be justified. I do not want to give the man who so readily passed me off the benefit of any sort of fucking doubt, but I also do not want to simply assume that he is an awful person.
Even though this is a lifelong plague, it is always the worst when these thoughts manifest themselves in my dreams.
Last night I had a dream that he sought me out to tell me that he is dying and was telling me of the things he was leaving to me, his only son. Even though it is only speculation, I shudder at the thought of being that man’s only legacy, I truly do…
I spent all day trying to salvage a relationship that has been going on strong for at least a year. Without going into too many specifics, I have this to say… I don’t see what in our brains, as humans, makes us think that going through all of this trouble with someone else… FOR someone else, is worth it. I don’t get it… to me, it’s just not worth it I guess