So I don’t normally have significant dreams or feel that they are even slightly significant very often, but the last two nights I have had very vivid dreams about being in relationships with different girls. It is a fact I don’t hide that I prefer loving someone over not loving someone, but it’s more of a recent development that it seems to have become a need more than a fancy. A lot of people, including me, have dreams about things that they want at the time or that they think about often throughout the day, but these recent dreams are odd because I really don’t spend much of my mind’s day on girls and am not currently doing anything to get with anyone. In fact, my life is pretty much exactly the same with respect to girls as it has been this whole last year, but I’ve never been so disturbed by these types of dreams in that entire time.

Everyone is familiar with sexual dreams; those come and go randomly as they please for me with little importance or provocation. These dreams were different though. In content they were actually less intense seeing as the most that was done in them was hand holding and cuddling. I did find myself randomly naked near the end of each dream, but neither her or I or anyone else around us thought much of it whereas something like that was usually the doorway to more exciting ventures in normal dreams. So having said that, the difference of course came with the feelings that went along with all this.

I felt very happy about being with each of the girls I was with (one was someone I knew and the other was completely fictitious), but at the same time I felt such an intense stab of pain at the subconscious knowledge that this was but a dream and that this happiness didn’t exist in any realm that held any significance in my life. So then I felt not just ‘not happy’, but I felt the absence of happiness. Not only did I feel like a poor hungry orphan; someone was forcing me to look through the glass of the bread shop window while describing vividly how good it could taste. Then I wake up. And move along. And am reminded again that the streets are paved with gravel, not pastries. And that I am alone.

I am Jack’s enormous blah.