I’ve written before that I’m convinced [at least my] deja vu’s are my past dreams coming true.  Part of my dream blogging is an effort to prove that.  The hard thing is to separate the dreams from things that can possibly happen from the impossible, and then remember the non-remarkable dreams after waking, and the final step is usually the kicker, to blog about it.  It’s easy to blog about the entertaining, far-fetched, or intriguing dreams, but it’s hard to place importance on the dreams, or part of the dreams, where I’m sitting at a table with 3 people and someone says or does something and another person says or does something else in reply.

A lot of my dreams take place at the estate (the house where I grew up).  I would say it’s the most frequent dream location, with Heritage Hills (the school I attended from 3rd grade until 9th grade) being a close second.  Both of these places no longer exist.  I know these will never turn into a deja vu.

A lot of my dreams involve my dad, or me at high school, or just at a younger age.  I know these can never happen.

It’s the dreams that are mundane, or even with people that I don’t know (yet?) that I need to focus on and document.

Sometimes, my dreams are hard to deal with.  Sometimes, I do things that I’d be ashamed to do in real life.  My dreams are in my memory though, so they don’t just fade away.  I remember them, as if I did them.  If the act alone is not bad enough, sometimes the emotions that go along with it make it a nightmare.  In real life, I’ve trained myself how to deal with my emotions.  Possibly as a result, my dreams become emotionally intense, and that emotion does not go away when I wake up…

She’s standing on the landing to the upstairs of my house.  I get down on my knees to be at her height and she laughs at me.  “How old are you, Daddy?”, she says to me as I chase her up a few steps.  “I’m 37″, I reply, knowing I’m lying, but not really able to remember the right answer.  She says she’s older than me.  I look at her analytically to figure out her age.  “No way, you’re like a 2 year old, Jule.”

I know her name.  She’s my daughter.  She looks like Mara Wilson of “Matilda” and Mrs. Doubtfire, only with shorter blonde hair.

As she climbs a few more stairs to the top, she calls out that she’s taller than me now.  I crawled up to her and tackled her to put her under my height again as she laughs.  Kallie’s at the top of the stairs, holding our son.  “I’m going to give Micah a bath.”,  she says.  I reply, “OK, I’ll keep Jule busy.”  As I roll around with Jule, a yellow lab comes up the stairs and joins in on the fun.

And then they’re gone.  Your first reaction is probably, “aww, that’s cute.”  My first reaction, in the middle of the night, is tears.  Actually, as I assume I felt myself waking up, I held Jule closer, starting to cry even in the dream, and that carried through to reality.  This was not a dream to me.  That was my child, I knew her, and I loved her.  I effing loved her, and then she’s gone.  It’s the same exact thing as death.  Even though the cause (what takes them away) is different, the effect is still feeling like someone you love is not there anymore, and never will be.  It’s pretty effed up.

That’s part of the reason I don’t want to talk about kids.  Dreams tend to pull inspiration from your real life and your actual thoughts that day.  I want to reduce the risk of me ever having dreams like that.  A beautiful nightmare?  Perhaps, but a nightmare still.  I’m still getting watery eyes just typing about her.

Bathroom time is sacred and private.  If anyone else is with 5 feet of you while you are in the bathroom, this is unacceptable, especially in the case of hardware floors where sound travels far.  If it is unavoidable, I learned a trick from a teacher back at Heritage Hills.  Turn the faucet on full blast to drown out any other sounds.

Good ol’ Heritage Hills Christian Academy.  Bring your conservative christians, your social outcasts, your vagabond christian school seekers, your public school expellants, they’re all welcome.  I met some of my best friends there.  From 3rd grade to 9th grade, I learned a lot, grew a lot personally, and I attribute so much of my life’s foundation from lessons and experiences from there.  There’s probably some sort of metaphor tying into the fact that it was filled with asbestos and is now torn down, but I live in a world of self-denial.

So many stories I could tell you.  Getting caught in the library with my first real girlfriend by my mother, sliding a table into the stomach of my math teacher who would later turn out to be my step father, being kicked out of class by my english teach who just happened to be my mother because "she couldn’t stand to see my face.", how we used to ask our history teacher if we could go to the gym instead of having class; and we would, or how we’d skip the whole asking permission thing and just go right to the gym or to the closed off half of the 3 story ~30 classroom building to explore, or make our way to one of the numerous access points to the roof…Ah, the roof.  Such a huge building…100 feet?  We’d throw anything we found off of it.  One time, we we’re running around the many different sections of the roof and one of my best friends, Dallas, nearly jumped into a section with a 30 foot drop to the second floor accidently.

But I’ll spare the stories.  The real thing I look back to is what I made mention to in the first paragraph; How much I attribute that place in the forming the groundwork for my life, sense of humor, and attitude.  Could I have been a bigger achiever?  You betcha, but I wouldn’t have had fun.  Infact, I probably wouldn’t have learned how to have fun.  Life is a series of moments, and that’s all you get.  Would the Federalist Papers have expanded my understanding of the government?  Perhaps, but I wouldn’t have the pictures that I drew with friends that I have today.  Life can’t be a structured, scheduled, organized, predictable thing.  Free thinking and human expression cannot have boundaries and limitations.  There are so many different people that I’ve been exposed to, and we all have our histories weaved together, so much thicker than just a public school experience of the same faces day in and day out.  We all learned together and grew together.  Maybe some were able to walk away from there without learning or growing spiritually, academically, socially, personally, or even creatively, and to those people, I apologize, but to everyone else, students, teachers, and parents a like: Thank You.

I’m not sure if i should post just any dream i remember, or just the ones that are weird. What do you think? This next one, i woke up remembering the end part, and was just going to post that, but then i remembered all that happenned before it that wasn’t related, so i wasn’t sure to post that or not. I guess i just write it at the end. Things to note, i went to bed at 4:30 pm, woke up at 8:30 pm for a minute or two, and had not dreamed any of this, and by 10:30 i woke up for good and remembered this.

So i am at my dad’s house, and by this time, i am aware that i am dreaming, but instead of being active and in control of my dream like i usually am, i believe myself to be invisible. It’s a summer day, and all my sisters are just chilling out in the grass sitting around and talking. I slowly sneak up to them and try and hear their conversation. While Serah is talking, Ja’ime starts to look at me. I have the feeling like in past dreams she had done the same thing, like i really am not invisible. I ignore it once or twice, but then she does it again, and i tackle here and start to tickle her sides like there is no tomorrow. She starts freaking out like i would expect her to, and everyone else sits there watching her, and then i see Serah give a look like “what do i do now???” and look off into the woods, as if some “director” is there and will give her directions. So i busted her on that move and then they all start talking to me, like “yeah, you weren’t invisible and you weren’t dreaming and we weren’t supposed to let you know that.” Like a whole Jim Carrey and Truman Show thing. Then my dad drive up in his dump truck into the yard and gets out and start heading for the house like he is mad. So i was looking at my sisters and said something along the lines of “so he was in on it too huh? I am so mad at him” Then I said, “but maybe he was just doing his job, so do i hate him, the actor actor in my life, or do i hate his character.” But anyway, it starts to get dark and stormy, and we all have this sense of urgency to seek refuge in the house. At this point, my uncle kenny shows up and heads for the house as well as my grandma. As we are making our way into the house, i hear TONS of crazy animal noises coming from the woods. I am talking lions, ELEPHANTS, howls, growls, all that, and i am thinking they are all coming to stampede the house. We get into the house, and i walk to the front door of the house and J’aime is letting Dante in from the porch, but a black police officer is there, and he drove his car right up to the porch and was talking to us to make sure everyone got in safe. And then i woke up. The part of the dream that happenned before this is in the extended text. So back to the beginning of what i remember. One of the most popular themes of my dreams is that i am back in highschool, trying to finish school for some reason, but i am still the same person as i am today. As if i just left school and never finished. So this is where i am at, in a classroom, and Will Smith is my teacher. We are in a classroom that was at my 2nd school, Heritage Hills Christian Academy. (3rd floor, across from Mrs. Sarber’s small room for the details) anyway, he’s about to start class and he asks me how i am doing, and i say fine. My girlfriend Becky is sitting next to me, and he asks me about the legal case going on. I am then reminded of a dream i hate earlier, where a friends girlfriend was suing me for some reason. I gave a look of shock that he asked me that and just tried to dodge the question, i think he got the hint and said that he was a little confused but he would just talk to me later. Then the dreams gets spotty and i kinda remember Samuel L Jackson being my teacher for something, and having a study hall with someone else, but i would skip it to go talk to him about my life and get his advice. Whe he was there, the setting was my first school, Bentleyville Wesleyan Christian School. The next thing i remember, i am at the cannon by my dad’s house, and someone starts playing the bass part to what i believe to be a Police song. I wish i could remember the song, or even exactly how it went, I know if someone played it for me right now, i would be able to pick it out. But anyway, he’s behind the barn playing guitar, and i walk near him and he starts playing some other leads to songs that i recognized. When he is done, he puts down the guitar, and walks back to the group of 4 or 5 of his 20 something friends who were watching him play. Then, one of them comes over to me, and about 6 other people that were watching him. And he starts saying that what his friend just did took courage, to stand up there and play infront of everyone, and he said 2 points for him for being able to do that, and to be bold enough to do what he wanted to do in his life. He said that is what we all needed to learn to do, to live in the moment. He came up to me and said to everyone, I am just going to put out my cigarette on this guy’s neck (which he did) because i don’t know him and i feel like doing it. Now, if he was smart, one day he will grow up and remember that and kill me. Then i started to strangle him, squeezing the life out of his neck, and he was proud of me for killing him, because he saw me doing what i wanted to do. He didn’t put up much of a fight. Then i start walking closer to the house and that is where i started to realize i was dreaming and continued with the rest of the dream.

I think this dream reveals my deep paranoia and dementia. Agree?

Let’s see…I went out for some ultimate frisbee at 9-11pm on thursday.  had a blast.  Also saw a guy *jump* into a tree, not just run into it.  He was going for a goal, looking over his shoulder at the frisbee, and BAM.   man, that was the funniest thing i have seen in a long time.  I think he ended up getting 4 stitches.  He was a bloody mess, and his face was swollen.  Straight out of america’s funniest videos.  Glad he is alright though.

John Kerry was on campus friday morning.  but get this…Jon Bon Jovi openned for him.  A bon jovi concert, at 9 am none the less.  what the crap.  The rationale behind that one are unfathomable.  So, as you can guess, i slept until 1pm on friday.

Speaking of which, i did the same on Saturday.  Only, 1pm, turned into 1:30 pm.  I woke to the sound of my door buzzer.  J’aime was to pick me up at 1:30 to go to the ballet.  She had called me a 10:30 to let me know that, but i went right back to bed, expecting either her to call when she was close, Emily and Nathan to call to come see the apartment, or a tech call around noon.  Since neither happenned, I let everyone go to the ballet ahead of me, and i walked down later.  Adrienne had seen the show Friday night, and she informed me of an “openning” show, called Seranade.  Crap on that.  I showed up just in time for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  It did seem to go by very fast, but it was good.  The set was exquisite.

So here i am at work on sunday.  working on stuff for the dragon game.  over 200 players now.  I feel a headache coming on though, a newer version of the game is to be released soon, and many of the mods i have done to this version will not be able to be ported over. 

no cornerstone this week, but a big kickball game on wednesday afternoon.  I havent played kickball since heritage hills.  that should be killer.  other than that, a whole lotta nothing this week.  andy’s this weekend with bob. 

and here is the clip of the X-files spin-off that aired in May 2001, that talks about the government flying a plane into the world trade center and blaming it on a small country.  Alex Jones must be having seizures.