Well. Am I sabotaging myself, wanting to suddenly heave up and change it all, move away to Florida and start over? Is my boredom making bad decisions for me? Or am I settling in every bad sense of the word, sinking into the mire here in Albuquerque, just slogging through it, everyday a little deeper in, drowning? Okay, I guess my language is pretty revealing, really. Heh.
But here's the dream I had last night. New apartment, moving in. Dark and dingy and creepy, and I loved it, I thought. Looking around at the crunchy nappy carpet and the barred low windows and the ceiling right above my head, I loved it. But then I remember thinking to myself, where's the bedroom? Is this all there is? Oh, this will never do. I definitely need more room. Oh, God, yes.
And then my brother was there, only he wasn't my brother, you know? I felt such a great affection for him, this gorgeous funky man who looked exactly like Lenny Kravitz. He was getting ready to go out and had freaked his hair out into spirals twisting off his head, wearing an outfit that would have made the Chasez himself green with envy, and I was so overcome with love that I hugged him. He patted my back and rolled his eyes and said oh, for god's sake, or something like that, and I smiled and woke up, perfectly happy.
Anyhow, yeah. Been dreaming about living spaces a lot, lately. This is a lifelong theme for me, and usually it's an indication of my overall mental state, and Jeez! Lately the dreams are all about discontent and change and finding the right place. So, yeah. And whoever you were, who came to me as my brother in the dream last night? Thanks, man. That helped.
where's the bedroom. hee. I wonder what that means