#idk I'm going to blame writing down every single dream I had as a teenager for my now constant dreaming
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Going to go to bed soon. Offering my full night of dreams to anyone: trade for deep, restful sleep only.
#idk I'm going to blame writing down every single dream I had as a teenager for my now constant dreaming#maybe documenting them more will help. or not. I'd be writing thousands of words a day#last night I had an adventure in a motel at a truckstop with this room in incredible detail filled with guns left by old guests hidden#by the manager who was this muscled tattooed baseballcap wearing toughguy#under these old pieces of dark wood furniture in shapes that were nearly useless for anything but statement pieces#there was dust and teddy bears and shotguns and bins with just enough rubbish to know they hadn't been cleaned out from the last guest#I crawled on the floor under the bed hiding until I could make my escape#beforehand I'd been a few shops up at the truckstop trying to get a slushy from the newsagents#but they were so old too all their stock was out of date and the machines weren't gettting cold enough to ice properly#as I tried to buy one with mum some little kid was trying to pickpocket me#we went back to the rental car and drove away up into the mountains. I dropped mum somewhere and kept going#until it turned into a beautiful mountain lane winding over the ranges#as I drove I narrowly missed a jet fighter plane crash into the hill beside me#though my car was destroyed and I walked down the hill arduously until I reached the base of a dam where police and mountain rescue waited#they'd heard the explosion but needed to see where in the mountains it had happened#so I took my friend's old boyfriend (a mountain guide) up the hill#and remarked on how funny it was that I was guiding the guide#we trekked up the hill I in bare feet until we reached the crash site#oh I forgot to mention the lesbian motorbike convention at the back of the motel in the parking lot#where I sat at a high table in the middle of the lot having a pastry for lunch all by myself#anyway that doesn't sound like much but I felt all the detail. The smell of the musty motel room and the prickly worn carpet#the softness of the brown bedspread and the terror of evading the hotel manager#the irritation at the pickpocket and the rage at having been ripped off#the adrenaline and cold of escaping the crash site#and then the breathlessness of the barefoot trek uphill#my aching feet as I stepped on prickles and sharp hot stones#it felt like it went on all night long in real time#this is every night now and has been for years#i'm going to really start doing the stretches and meditation before bed properly#cannot stand this anymore. it's not even worth it for the blorbo dreams lol
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