I just stumbled across this blog. I completely forgot about it, as evidenced by my complete lack of blogging for several years. You'd think a writer would be able to keep better track of her writing. *eye roll
Anyhow! I think I should like to get back into it, having been motivated by the thoughts of another, recently. I have a few older writings I'd like to post sometime, as well as some newer thoughts and life musings.
You know, normal bloggy stuff.
Haha, I just spent several minutes admiring the cute little buttons on my phone for this blogger-app. Technology is most definitely a good thing in my view.
For my first, more recent post, I don't have a whole lot to say. Not anything that would make sense, at least.
I know-- a writer who can't express her own self in words... Not the ideal thing. But it's true. I have an odd, overwhelming problem with writing about myself, and trying to describe my feelings and other pariphenalia (sp?). I've had this problem ever since I can remember, back since before fourth grade. That's why I wrote out my life in stories, occasionally poems and continuations of whatever books or movies I found relevant at the time. I would live vicariously through what I saw, transferred to paper and crafted in my own voice.
Well. Now that I've explained my ineptitude with self-study/description, I can proceed to apologize beforehand for any rants or otherwise incomprehensible smatterings found on this blog. I will try to make sense in words the best I can, which may not be much. We'll see.
I haven't been able to sleep well lately.
No, retract that. I have not been able to sleep well for a ridiculously long time. Years, in fact, are marked with tossing and turning and wide awake nights. I think I was meant to be a creature of the night, but something got mixed up in my creating and I became a half-and-half-- enjoying both the strong warmth of sunshine and the secluded embrace of the night.
Fine and dandy during the summer, but a nightmare during my college semesters.
Speaking of nightmares, I don't have them regularly, but I do have them- more than a normal amount, I think. Most focus on spiders... Big ones. Those make sense. Some focus on revelations of my past, which also makes sense, I guess. I'm not a perfect person.
But then there's some that I can't figure out at all. I'm a psychologist at heart, and it thrills me when I make connections and understand things about people and their minds. But sometimes, my nightmares are flat-out weird. They still scare me and I wake up panicked, but they make no sense, no matter how you rationalize,analyze, or pick them apart.
Those are the worst. Vague fears, loss of something important but unreachable, silent screams and immobile panics. The last one I can clearly remember having occurred several months ago, maybe even a year. Nobody in the dream had faces, but I could feel the aura of the individuals and could recognize them as easily as if I were looking at their faces. I couldn't name them, but I knew them. Each figure took turns and touched me, and with each touch I felt a different senasation- some were stabbing, other squeezing, some ripping, and one felt like what childbirth might be (never had a kid, wouldn't know). All but two or three of the feelings were torturous. I only remember that one of the good feelings seemed like a hug, and the other like copulation. The dream then morphed into stage two.
It put me into a dark dungeon- the kinds you see in the movies with slimy, moisture-covered walls built of stone, shackles hanging from the walls, etc. I saw in a painted circle on the floor, a woman whipping a man. The man was hanging from his hands which were chained to the ceiling, and stood on a chair. The woman used a multi-thonged whip to beat him, shirtless and bloody. I remember trying to scream something, for the man was significant to me, but nothing came out. Hoewever, immediately after attempting to cry out, I switched places with the man-- rather, I BECAME the man, chained to the ceiling with my back ragged and bleeding. The woman approached, leering, and dropped a black spider onto my neck. It bit me, and instantly paralyzed me. I had begun to scream as she did so, but again, nothing emerged. Instead, my mouth unconsciously shut and my teeth clamped down onto my tongue, cutting it in half. I couldn't open my mouth from being paralyzed, and I died- drowning in my own blood because I couldn't open my mouth.
Pretty messed up, to me at least.
On a positive note, the dreams I have like that rarely stick, and I end up ignoring/subsequently forgetting about them as I go about my day.
I'm going to change that.
I just decided that this will be, in part, my dream journal, of sorts. Every day I will write down immediately what I dreamed, as soon as I wake up, then post it here. I'm interested in where this will lead. I'm told better dream recall comes in time, especially when one is actively trying to remember details and writing them down.
Well. I suppose that's plenty long for a first new-post, ay?
Have a wonderful night/very-early-morning.
-Nikko
Anyhow! I think I should like to get back into it, having been motivated by the thoughts of another, recently. I have a few older writings I'd like to post sometime, as well as some newer thoughts and life musings.
You know, normal bloggy stuff.
Haha, I just spent several minutes admiring the cute little buttons on my phone for this blogger-app. Technology is most definitely a good thing in my view.
For my first, more recent post, I don't have a whole lot to say. Not anything that would make sense, at least.
I know-- a writer who can't express her own self in words... Not the ideal thing. But it's true. I have an odd, overwhelming problem with writing about myself, and trying to describe my feelings and other pariphenalia (sp?). I've had this problem ever since I can remember, back since before fourth grade. That's why I wrote out my life in stories, occasionally poems and continuations of whatever books or movies I found relevant at the time. I would live vicariously through what I saw, transferred to paper and crafted in my own voice.
Well. Now that I've explained my ineptitude with self-study/description, I can proceed to apologize beforehand for any rants or otherwise incomprehensible smatterings found on this blog. I will try to make sense in words the best I can, which may not be much. We'll see.
I haven't been able to sleep well lately.
No, retract that. I have not been able to sleep well for a ridiculously long time. Years, in fact, are marked with tossing and turning and wide awake nights. I think I was meant to be a creature of the night, but something got mixed up in my creating and I became a half-and-half-- enjoying both the strong warmth of sunshine and the secluded embrace of the night.
Fine and dandy during the summer, but a nightmare during my college semesters.
Speaking of nightmares, I don't have them regularly, but I do have them- more than a normal amount, I think. Most focus on spiders... Big ones. Those make sense. Some focus on revelations of my past, which also makes sense, I guess. I'm not a perfect person.
But then there's some that I can't figure out at all. I'm a psychologist at heart, and it thrills me when I make connections and understand things about people and their minds. But sometimes, my nightmares are flat-out weird. They still scare me and I wake up panicked, but they make no sense, no matter how you rationalize,analyze, or pick them apart.
Those are the worst. Vague fears, loss of something important but unreachable, silent screams and immobile panics. The last one I can clearly remember having occurred several months ago, maybe even a year. Nobody in the dream had faces, but I could feel the aura of the individuals and could recognize them as easily as if I were looking at their faces. I couldn't name them, but I knew them. Each figure took turns and touched me, and with each touch I felt a different senasation- some were stabbing, other squeezing, some ripping, and one felt like what childbirth might be (never had a kid, wouldn't know). All but two or three of the feelings were torturous. I only remember that one of the good feelings seemed like a hug, and the other like copulation. The dream then morphed into stage two.
It put me into a dark dungeon- the kinds you see in the movies with slimy, moisture-covered walls built of stone, shackles hanging from the walls, etc. I saw in a painted circle on the floor, a woman whipping a man. The man was hanging from his hands which were chained to the ceiling, and stood on a chair. The woman used a multi-thonged whip to beat him, shirtless and bloody. I remember trying to scream something, for the man was significant to me, but nothing came out. Hoewever, immediately after attempting to cry out, I switched places with the man-- rather, I BECAME the man, chained to the ceiling with my back ragged and bleeding. The woman approached, leering, and dropped a black spider onto my neck. It bit me, and instantly paralyzed me. I had begun to scream as she did so, but again, nothing emerged. Instead, my mouth unconsciously shut and my teeth clamped down onto my tongue, cutting it in half. I couldn't open my mouth from being paralyzed, and I died- drowning in my own blood because I couldn't open my mouth.
Pretty messed up, to me at least.
On a positive note, the dreams I have like that rarely stick, and I end up ignoring/subsequently forgetting about them as I go about my day.
I'm going to change that.
I just decided that this will be, in part, my dream journal, of sorts. Every day I will write down immediately what I dreamed, as soon as I wake up, then post it here. I'm interested in where this will lead. I'm told better dream recall comes in time, especially when one is actively trying to remember details and writing them down.
Well. I suppose that's plenty long for a first new-post, ay?
Have a wonderful night/very-early-morning.
-Nikko
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