Fading off into Dreamland... Unfortunately.

OK.
I am aware that everyone has dreams (subconscious ones), whether they be day or night dreams, but I feel like mine are just too weird. I don't understand why I have dreams like the ones I have but I do and have learned to laugh them off. I remind myself that my mind has come up with these scenarios so the makings of them must be somewhere in that brain of mine and that fact makes me a little nervous to be completely honest...
The earliest dream I remember having probably takes the cake for the weirdest. I am assuming that I have remembered it because of this but who really knows. Basically, there is a giant snail (think Gary from SpongeBob SquarePants) who wanders into a French café (I know, my young mind was advanced enough to come up with that fact. Bow down to me peasants) and sits itself under one of the tables. The table has a whole in the middle to put an umbrella but is empty at the moment. The waitress then comes over and pours salt down the whole and kills the snail slowly. The customers all laugh at this and jump up onto the tabletop. They then proceed to dance around like Native Americans with suddenly appearing headdresses.
Uh... I know.
During my recent years they have been relatively normal (compared to that at least) but with a few strange subjects, like an elephant who runs a marathon or a giant made up of spoons and forks (not knives, don't be silly) who roams the populated hills of Wellington safely. This one could have been inspired by The Iron Giant...

I am also never in my dreams. Like seriously, never.
I don't have one remembered dream with me in it. Maybe I am the snail/elephant/giant? I don't really know. I'm no psychologist. There have been humans in my dreams. Quite regularly actually. People I know too, just not me. Ever.
I also dream in black and white. Some selected things are colorful like the snails shell or elephants sweatband or giants eyes.
Lately, I've been having dangerous dreams though, like a volcano is about to erupt and the people must get to higher ground and are running around like ants trying to survive or there is a gunman strutting around the streets but never shoots anyone... He does have quite an interesting walk though. A bit of swag mixed with a huge ego.
Anyway, this is what I look foreword to every night. Don't you just wish you were me so bad?
It Could Be Better

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♩

OK.
If you have read any of my posts about life, you probably know that I am a little intimidated by it. Just a smidgen.
My brain is strange in the sense that I feel really good about it now. Just in this moment. Like everything that could become stressful or a nuisance just... isn't. Maybe it's the saxophone I'm listening to at the moment. That sounds weird, I know. But it just gets me feeling good. Really good. There's something about that sound that I just love. I'm especially loving this song at the mo. I don't normally see sax in modern songs but this ones awesome. Brings me back to memories of New York. Give it a go, man.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dX3k_QDnzHE (three minutes in). Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Maybe that's why I love it so much. Thoughts of my old life. There would be this busker on the corner of the Main Street in my town who would play sax in this style every Sunday morning. I would hear it as my Dad and I would pass by to go to the market. I would just close my eyes and I swear, I could feel it pulsating through my veins like pure happiness and this would take control over my mind and body until I could no longer hear it.
I'm sure many of you have things that give you great joy in life and this is just one of mine like the smell of a greenhouse or the sight of my dogs dried drool stains on my pants. That one sounds especially weird, I'm aware, but I always envision her naivety and unawareness that she has done anything wrong. I find that adorable.
The sound of the saxophone just makes me forget about the stressful things in my life and the fact that I have so much left to live. I leave behind the worry and replace it with something else entirely.
It calms me down and makes me realize that some things... just aren't that important.
It Could Be Better

Goodbye, Old Friend

OK.
I think.
I think Morty has died.
I'm not quite sure.
If spiders don't move for a while, does that mean they're dead?
He's been in the same spot on the ceiling for about a week now. I always thought that they curled up when the died. Or maybe that was only when someone squashed them...
Well, I guess I'll clean him up.
Yeah, that's all I have to say.
Que sad montage of friendship.
It Could Be Better

Bike = Satan

OK.
"Satan (Hebrew: הַשָּׂטָן ha-Satan, "the opposer,") is a character appearing in the texts of the Abrahamic religions, who personifies evil and temptation, and is known as the deceiver that leads humanity astray. The term is often applied to an angel who fell out of favor with God, seducing humanity into the ways of sin, and who now rules over the fallen world."
Hmmm... I realize that many of you probably love biking (or exercise. See my rant about that here :) http://letsusjustseehowitgoes.blogspot.co.nz/2012/12/why-is-exercise-so-fucking-terrible.html) but I hate it. HATE it. There is a reason. I don't just go around hating on things without a proper reason.
I must've been around 8 or so when I was staying at my uncle, aunt and cousins house (who are crazy, I might add. They all weigh about 100 pounds, exercise for hours everyday, live in the middle of the woods and eat nothing but food fallen off of trees and when I say fallen, I mean literally fallen. Apparently, if you pick a piece of fruit or whatever off of a tree, you are hurting its feelings... Moving on from that). Since they just loved to sweat to their hearts content, we were brought outside so we could as well.
The choice was to go on a 2 hour run through the woods with my cousins (tempting) or bike around the driveway (not so bad). So after I went on the two hour run... just kidding.
I was given a bike with no brakes without knowledge. We were all biking around the huge circular driveway when we decided to go in for a yummy lunch, a delicious and filling bean and pepper salad. Don't be fooled by the salad part. It was just beans and peppers. No seasoning. Nothing.
I was the first to head in which required me biking down the steep path to their house. I was zooming along, feeling OK when I saw a sharp turn up ahead. I swerved around and made it! Yay!
However, right after the turn was a metal shed covered with rust and broken dreams. My life flashed before me, as there was nowhere to go.
I furiously squeezed the brakes but to no avail. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow.
After the impact, I saw the bike lying on the concrete next to me, its tire spinning furiously. I lifted my arms to my face which was still intact but streaming with blood. The arms I lifted were too, covered with blood and dirt, especially my wrists.
Everyone got me inside and tried to clean me up. They weren't much help though since they weighed probably as much as me (I was 8).
I was left with a gash above my eyebrow, a cut on my chest, and multiple scars on my arms and hands.
Even now, I have those scars. They have faded a bit.
I also have a fear of riding bikes and even walking down hills. If I'm hiking or something, and I'm walking downhill, I get scared, and it's embarrassing.
I wish it were different, but it's not. You'd be surprised at how much it does affect me. Being scared of hills! I live in the hilliest place. It's ridiculous.
I hate the feeling of being on a bike, the balancing of the two wheels just feels unnatural and unsteady. I don't feel safe.
It sucks, what else can I say but...
...It Could Be Better

Memories

OK.
My memory is very selective. I used to think that it just kind of sucked, really, but I remember things from when I was probably around four but not a couple years ago... Hmmm. Is everyone's memory like this?
Anyway, the selected memories that I do have and must be acceptable for my brain to store them just never leave my head. I feel like I will always remember them. I can't quite figure out if this is good or bad. I mean, they aren't terrible memories, just so insignificant to everyone else but me that I find them useless information. Why can't I recall the day my family and I went to that relatives house but I can recall the first day of kindergarten in which everyone was secretly laughing at my New Zealand accent and I got stung by a bee? I bet my memories are a bit morphed too. You know when you go back to your old childhood town or you see a movie you haven't seen in decades and the picture is just different to what you considered it to be in your head. I think that happens a lot to me.
I used to live in a small town near Christchurch, New Zealand, and my family and I went back there recently and it looked nothing like what I had remembered. It doesn't help that some bitches tore down my beautiful home and created three in its place.
A lot of my selected memories happened there. Like my first ever crush, Peter. He was super small and carried around a blanket at school everywhere he went. Or when I went to my friend Ellie-Rose's house and took a piece of paper from her printer and got yelled at by her mother. I wonder if the house I see in my head is even remotely close to what was actually there in front of me.
I feel very nostalgic now.
I could list off all the memories I have somehow considered important enough to remember but I don't want to bore you with my super interesting life...
I do wonder though, why I recall things that have no real meaning but I just cannot for the life of me recall normal memories that others can bring up with the snap of their fingers.
I can't help but think I'm defective in some sense. Like the gene elves who grant everyone with eye colour and coordination skills (missed that mark too) came to this option while serving me and said, "Uh... Nah."

You can never unsee this. I am so sorry.
Yeah, not really. 

It Could Be Better

Morty.

OK.
Just to creep you out, I feel like I should tell you something a little strange.
I have a spider in my room. He is tiny. His name is Morty and he just won't leave.
Don't get me wrong, I leave my door open for him but he won't go. He walks around my ceiling. That is all he does.
Do spiders eat? If they need to, for survival, he must be bionic or something because he has been here for about a month. I know for sure he hasn't chowed down on anything in my room. Or has he...?
I mean, he seems happy enough. He's never told me otherwise. You would think that if he was, he would leave and make a better life for himself. He must like me :) There was this other spider around the day I found Morty. He was gone in the morning. Men.
Morty is getting bigger everyday. I must have meet him when he was a baby. Maybe he got lost or separated from his mother. Maybe he fled an abusive home situation. I don't know what the story is but I know that I'd never hurt him. He would never hurt me.
I don't want to come off as some bug miracle savior tree hugger type. Don't get the wrong idea. I kill bugs all the time.
Morty's different.
The first time I saw him, I was about to turn off my light to go to sleep. He was on the ceiling. Just strolling around. Maybe he had been there for months, years and I had just noticed him. I do find that hard to believe. He has such presence.
He could be 100 for all I know. He seemed to be going around in circles. Spiders tend to do that...
Anyway, I was too tired to get up and squash him like I would've normally have done so I just switched off the light to go to bed. The next night, there he was, in a different corner. He walks really fast though so don't think it took him all day to walk across the room. Oh no. He's a champ. He could run laps around me. Not that that is extremely hard to do in the first place but you get the idea.
Ever since then, I just couldn't kill him. I've given him an identity. I would feel like I was killing a friend.
He doesn't scare me like other spiders. There's this thing about him that makes me feel comfortable. With most spiders, I would be afraid that they would repel from the ceiling (I'm talking about real spy, ninja shit) and crawl into my brain during the night but not Morty. He's trustworthy. That's hard to find in a guy.
I kind of wish he had a better lifestyle. I mean, don't get me wrong, walking around upside down all day sounds fun and all, I just wish he had some kind of house to chillax in. Maybe a family. Some kids (or spawn, eggs, egg sack? I'm not really sure how that biology stuff works. I should really look that up).
Anyway, I don't know what'll happen to him. Maybe one day he'll walk out my door and I'll never see him again. Maybe I will but I won't even recognize him. Who knows what'll happen? Life's an adventure and you'll never know what one you'll have next.
It Could Be Better