Monday, October 29, 2018

now stabbing dream

Now I'm getting stabbed in my dream. We're moving from outside to inside. The terrifying thing is the room looks a lot like my real home. It's this middle aged man dressed up in rags like he's homeless, and he's holding the knife, and my dad is in the background and I think he also had a knife. I had a knife, too, though a small one, the size of the scissors you use to cut threads with. I kept hoping my dad would help me take this man down, but he kept pretending to have phone calls and going from room to room, all the while the man was approaching me. I finally gave up hope and decided to fight him myself. I had a strong conviction that I still remember now -  " so what if I have to fight him alone? It's not like I don't have a weapon. My weapon is small and I may get stabbed, but I'll defeat him . "

It's no mystery that my dreams are spawned from my immense distrust in mankind and huge despair for the world . There is no need to analyze it.

I exhausted all the hot water today while exfoliating myself in the shower. I came out. I am still not alright.

I only want to play this game with people who know the rules, Diary, and there are so few of them. So few of us. When two people meet - when any number of people meet - it's only meaningful if there is a clash of values, and it only matters if the clash of values will lead to something significant. I avoid waste and needless sacrifice at all cost, but I never shy away from conflict .  The  pieces  are , however , far between in space and time .

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