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I was at a boring g get

I was at a boring g get together attended by many elderly people. My ex boyfriend entered and immediately made friends with a former class mate. They left me to go to a more exciting venue.

I'm an apartment, DF's apartment, my recent

I'm an apartment, DF's apartment, my recent stepfather. This is nothing like his actual house however, though I wasn't thinking like that at the time. The colors of the house are pale, boring, light grey, white, and a shade of tan that barely makes it any brighter. Directly to my left is a large, hardwood table, seen through a pale lens of colorlessness. Farther forward of that it a kitchen, with marble tops and light grey counters, still no contrast or brightness. To my right, and slightly forward is a living room. The wraparound couch is pale tan, badly accentuated with white and light grey pillows. I take a few steps into the living room, and soft plush meets my toes. Looking down, there is light grey fluffy carpet in between my feet. A foggy glass sliding door at the end of the living room. I sense rather than feel the other people in the house. DF, my stepdad, MOM, my mother (Who else?), and my stepbrother, CC. The rest of my immediate family is nowhere to be found, but my thoughts barely brush upon this subject without any feeling of alarm or surprise. Scene change. I'm outside. The sky is a bright blue and the grass is so light it almost looks like frosting. The fence is a wooden color, pale by any normal standards, but neon in comparison to the inside of this house. Our house/apartment rests on the side of a hill, and I see thousands more of the houses spread around us. The hill is alarming steep. A fence surrounds our house except for a small break in the back right corner. Accompanied by neighborhood kids and my brother, CC, I run towards the exit, looking for something adventurous. The rest is a joyful and exciting blur of running around the hillside, and finding an odd stairway that circles downwards. The end of the 'hill' is actually a small hang over, and the staircase is a circular structure leading to a raised concrete wall with a little over a foot of space under it. I remember running down these stairs, feet hitting it and making a loud ringing sound due to the metal structure, even with the actual steps being made of concrete. I remember worming under the wall with someone, hiding and trying to muffle my laughter and quick breathing. Later, I return home, the night sky looking purple, with amazing white lights of a variety of sizes glinting down on use like a cartoon sky. Scene change. I'm farther into the living room now, and it's later in the day, according to the sunlight streaming through the glass door. No one is here with me anymore, except KC sitting on the pale couch. She's doing something. It feels like she's watching a movie or playing a game, but I can't see what she's watching or playing. Odd. I ask her where my phone is, and she turns her head to me quickly before turning it back, light hair flying wildly, emphasizing her youth. She directs me to the kitchen, but doesn't know for sure. I walk into the kitchen, The floor is a pale marbled tile, pale cabinets with stone tops. Every piece of kitchenware is hidden from sight, very unusual for our house. You would see a cast iron tool at the very least sitting on the stove, but none of the usual tools are sitting on the counters. I look around me, not seeing it on the gleaming counter tops. Somehow I determine that the last place I had it was outside. I head out with a cell phone, calling my own phone. I kneel down to use gravity to my advantage, sliding down the steep hill speedily, heading towards the stairway. I run down the stairs in a similar manner that I did the night before, but stop halfway, looking down at the dirty patch of grass on the other side of the wall. I don't see a ringing phone, and am about to leave, but I do see something. A black flip phone with an orange back sits there open. I get halfway through a thought, "MY PHONE IS PURPLE, THAT'S NOT---" but the dream takes over, and I can feel half of myself getting excited and running for the phone. I crawl under the wall, my small chest rubbing on the concrete floor and my back rubbing on the thick wall above me. Anxiously, i hurry over to the other side and pick up the phone, still on my stomach. It's not ringing, and the thought finally gets through to me that that was never my phone to begin with. Suddenly, I'm aware of something vibrating in my hand. I look down to the hand that was holding the phone I was calling myself with. Amazingly, I was holding my familiar purple phone.

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot my snowboard and snow pants. But I do have a motorcycle and a go-cart. So I go up and down Beaver riding on my motorcycle and go-cart. But I was really sad I forgot my snow gear and my friends where all very upset with me. But it was very exciting I was doing all these tricks and flips and just having a good time. Everyone was jealous and kept asking for a turn, I could only recognize my friends no one else, and I kept telling them no. i was so happy. i didn't wreck once

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot my snowboard and snow pants. But I do have a motorcycle and a go-cart. So I go up and down Beaver riding on my motorcycle and go-cart. But I was really sad I forgot my snow gear and my friends where all very upset with me. But it was very exciting I was doing all these tricks and flips. Everyone was jealous and kept asking for a turn, I could only recognize my friends no one else, and I kept telling them no.

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot

I’m at Beaver Mountain but I forgot my snowboard and snow pants. But I do have a motorcycle and a go-cart. So I go up and down Beaver riding on my motorcycle and go-cart. But I was really sad I forgot my snow gear and my friends where all very upset with me. But it was very exciting I was doing all these tricks and flips and just having a good time. Everyone was jealous and kept asking for a turn, I could only recognize my friends no one else, and I kept telling them no.

I am a frequent 'epic dreamer'; and

I am a frequent 'epic dreamer'; and have more recently experienced 'lucid dreams' where I can change, or manipulate, my dream to my own liking. These dreams are sweeping and beautiful, massive in scale, and can feature mountain ranges, valleys, vast moorlands, oceans, islands, lonely beaches or beautiful villages in the snow. They seem to go on for hours, uninterrupted, and I can recall every single detail for years afterwards. They all, without exception, feature an enormous house (different every time) and nearly all feature sex with an unknown man, who is always different and doesn't look like anyone I know. The house is always huge, isolated, gothic, empty, mostly derelict, with hundreds of rooms and the dream predominantly features me, either alone or with this man, discovering rooms. I am always excited, sometimes sexually exicted in these houses; somewhere in the dream is the knowledge that the house belongs to me and I'm discovering it for the first, most exciting, time, and deciding what I can do with it. I explore attics, cellars, staircases and bedrooms, but I always seems to linger for a long time by windows, gazing longingly out the the incredible view, or by enormous fireplaces, looking into the flames. Sometimes the house is truly derelict and haunted but I'm not scared, just in awe of its beauty and amount of rooms. There is always a very lucid feeling of real excitement in the dream and this usually turns to sexual excitement as the man in the dream makes his move on me. It can be incredibly intense and romantic, and the feeling stays with me for days or weeks. Sometimes years! Less frequently (once a month maybe) I feel such intense grief in a dream I wake up with my pillow wet and I'm depressed for days. Yet I never know why I was grieving. The only feeling that remains with me is that I've lost something and can never find it ever again. Sometimes in my dream I decide it's not romantic or gorgeous enough, and I can go back and change the crucial scene to my liking. I am even discussing this in my dream with myself, saying 'hang on - I could have been more heroic or powerful in that scene. Let's go back and do it again'. So I do, but improve on the outcome. All my dreams are so beautiful, and so epic in scale and emotion, that they exhaust me and real life seems very dull and ugly and unromantic in comparison.