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Three nuns huge absolutely ground tremblingly huge, circling me, very menacing, trying to cram me into a habit, they are dirty and smell bad and have broken teeth, they are sibilance, and they are telling me they are going to make me one of them, and one talks and she spits down her chin when she does, and no matter how I fight they are just impossibly nimble, and I can't get away, they take my hair - my hair! They tell me my independence is a cancer, tell me thought is ruin, and they stink, gods do they stink, like despair, it has a smell you know … and the worst part, is that in the dream, I begin to believe.



I have a picture Tyler (gosh I wonder how he’s doing …) sent to me of a storm lashing the coast of Norway. I feel like those waves and that wind, like I am throwing myself against the breakers, trying to understand why I am having that dream, what it means, why I start BELIEVING them. I don't get it.



Why am I writing this? Who the fuck wants to read something like this? *I* don’t want to read something like this. Something that shows the spiky and craven and dark parts of me, the parts that lack courage and smear blood on the walls in eldritch patterns and leave me gibbering at what I find and what finds me. The part of me that is a sad, sick little fuck wants others to gibber too. Maybe that’s why I am writing this. Maybe I want people to see the darkness staring steadily back at them. Maybe I just want to feel I am not alone in this terrifying mind. Maybe I just want one person to understand. Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I am talking about. Maybe I’ll have crepes for breakfast. Maybe I’ll have a roommate.

I had the nightmare where all my teeth fall out again last night.



Meh.



This one had a twist. This time my gums were bleeding an assload, too.



*sigh*



I need new nightmares.