Some of the things I'll be posting here will be reality. Some will be fantasy. Some will be dreams, which are kind of like imagined reality.
I'm not going to tell you what's what, most of the time. Most of the time you'll have to figure it out for yourself. You'll have to figure out almost everything in your life by yourself.
Almost?
Right.
Because, unless you're somthing other than human, you won't know how to take advice and you won't learn from the mistakes of others.

But I'm getting away from myself.
These are dreams. Some are recent, some are very, very old.

I dreamnt I was in a stripclub. It was amature night and there was a woman on the stage who knew she had no business being on the stage.
She was horribly out of shape. She was not attractive.
The entire audience was silent. Like they were watching, well, like they were watching a woman with no business taking off her clothes in public, doing exactly that.
Out of fear or respect for the moment, the DJ had turned off the music and brought the house lights up. No strobes. No fog machine. No neon.
Just a woman, in ordinary, revealing light.
Here face was flushed with a combination of embarrasment and fear and excitement.
Since this was my dream, I could read her thoughts.
Her only thought was, Here we go. Here we go.
The more clothing she took off, the worse she looked. This may very well be the case for most people, but I was watching her increase in size as she took off her dancing shoes. I watched her folds of flesh double on themselves as she took off her blouse, watched her breasts shrink and sag as she took off her bra.
She looked up the entire time, her face shiny, reflecting the ordinary light with her ordinary features.
But she was smiling as she moved through the silence and was still taking off her clothes when I woke up, or when my mind moved on.
I can't remember if it was pathetic or admirable.

There was a female vampire who had taken owner ship of a large squat mansion/building in the middle of a enormous grey city.
She had seduced and killed the man who had owned the building. He signed his fortune over to her his last night, in a fever. He was trying to get her to keep him alive a little longer. Not because he relished life so much, or because he wanted to see another sun rise or his daughter's face, but because he wanted to be taken by her a few more times. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
She killed him before he had a chance to put the pen down.

She stayed in the house for years. There's no logic here, it's a dream. I don't know how she stayed alive. Apparently, it wasn't that important.
Eventually, as her house began to collapse on itself, she watched a new building go up accross the street. She watched as we would watch time lapse photography of a rose blooming.
When she finally blinked, people were living there.
One man, a doctor, played by Christopher Walken, caught her attention.
There was a noblity and humanity about him that touched her in a way she had no tools to understand.
Whatever she was feeling, she wanted to find out more about it.
She approached the man and was not able to seduce him. Her heart, what there was of it, was not in it.
She found this curious and stroked the thought like a cat with two heads.
He didn't like the way she lived. The building was in horrible shape, and he thought she should take better care of herself.
So she had the entire thing renovated and refurnished in a style he would appreciate.
When, eventually, it was done, she invited him in. He wondered at the change and the light she brought in.
He asked her about specific pieces. Some she purchased, some she designed, all magnificent.
A clockwork VCR/stereo, encased in chisled glass, stands out.
In this dream, I was sometimes the vampire, sometimes Christopher Walken, sometimes the house. As with most of my dreams, there was some excellent camara work and cinematography, and I have no idea at all what it means.

I went through a period of dreaming and being obsessed with severed heads and skulls. My therapist hasn't been able to crak this nut, but I can tell you she don't like it.
Severed heads? Skulls? It's got to be bad, right?
I've not made up my mind yet.
One dream involved a private detective looking for a missing man.
He found the man in a warehouse. He found the man's head in a warehouse. He found the man's head, kept alive and levatating on some bizzare machine strapped onto his neck, in a warehouse.
Something like a moat had been dug into the middle of the warehouse floor.
The middle of the moat was a massive, black cylidrical machine.
The mad scientist and his hechman would throw a person into the moat. They would be rung through this machine in a most horrible way and spit out as a severed, levatating, insane head.
I assumed the process of being wrenched off their bodies was what was making the heads insane. The levatating had to jostle their brains a little, too.
The detective fought with the scientist and the henchman and managed to get them both into the machine at the same time.
The machine, not being built for two bodies, I mean, come on, let's be real, ate itself. But not before it spit the two heads of the scientist and the henchman, welded together and levatating poorly, more insane than any of the others, out.

Now. Why would that give you cause to worry?