Dreams

I think it’s funny that I ever only write these in Math class. I guess it doesn’t help that we usually get here about 20 minutes early, but that’s not something I can control.
Dreams are weird. I’ve had a few recently that really stick out, along with the few over the years that have stuck with me. Most are whimsical, crazy dreams that make little sense but have a lot of things going on, but every once in a while I have a dramatic, rather depressing dream. I almost like those more, to a point, because of the potential for elaboration.
For example, I had a dream that took place entirely within a train station. I ‘knew’ (the way you just know things in dreams) that I was a Soviet fighter ace and it was 1943, and I was leaving the airbase I was stationed at because it was going to be overrun. Everything was bluish, like it was nighttime, and gave everything a cold feeling. There were distant explosions, maybe artillery shells already falling somewhere nearby. There was a woman standing there with me on the platform, someone created by my subconscious, as opposed to someone I knew. She was begging me to do something, either stay or go or take her with me. I knew she was in love with me, but for some reason I didn’t seem to care. I turned rudely away, and as I did I heard a gunshot. I turned back to her, and she looked at me sadly and fell to the ground. I knelt next to her and took her in my arms, and her blood, very dark and vivid red against the bluish concrete, spilled out over my coat and the ground. I realized then that I had done something terrible, and that in turning her love away I had killed her. I woke up as another man, probably another pilot, grabbed me and pulled me onto the train.
There is something there, something between those two characters, that begs for more. Who is the pilot, and why is he so cold? Who is the woman, and why does she continue to hope for him to return her love? What happens before this scene, and what happens afterward? There is so much that can yet be told. It’s like reading a section of a book, or seeing a section of a movie. I want to know the rest. But, since this was a dream, I’ll have to make up the rest myself.
Another dream I’ve had like this one is much more depressing. It’s basically the Kitty Genovese story, the one from the newspaper, only Kitty Genovese is my girlfriend and I’m stuck in the apartment building, unable to leave and unable to get anyone else to help. The worst part about that one is that I’ve had it twice now.
I’ve had one dream that kind of straddles that line, in which I was wounded in a fencing mishap and then proceeded to watch the rest of my life starting from the hospital bed. It was strange, and somewhat optimistic, beyond the incredibly painful beginning.

New Beginnings

I’ve been trying to get this thing started again for a while, but let’s face it: writing is a largely thankless job. I simply haven’t been motivated to write in a while, besides the fact that writing is one of the few things I’m good at and I should be trying to write as much as I can. The problem is, I think too much.
Little things were major stumbling blocks. Take tone, for example. I thought for hours about whether or not I should have a sarcastic, cynical tone of voice as I do when on the internet or dealing with 12-year-olds, or if I should have a more friendly tone. I just decided not to decide at all; Each post will have whatever tone of voice I have at the time of writing. I suppose most of them will be in the rather normal tone this one is in.
Then, I wasn’t sure what to say. Would people find my day-to-day routine interesting? I doubt it. Can I think of enough amusing stories and other works of fiction to fill a blog? Again, probably not. But I must write to get better, and writing to the Great Void of the Internet seems like a better idea than writing to someone specific. That way I don’t have to tailor my writing to anyone and can purely write. How I can make it interesting, I don’t know. It will be a struggle to simultaneously write how I feel to no one in specific and yet make my writing worth reading to everyone.
So yes, I do plan on writing more in here. But don’t expect much. I am nothing if not lazy and fickle.

And for the love of god, if you feel like commenting, please do. Knowing someone wades through this muck is a huge self-esteem boost. I really appreciate it.