I started writing this journal entry during the dawn of March 11th, 2014. I probably won’t submit this for a day or two or three or several more. In this journal, I made reference to a dream that I have not told you guys about. I’m currently also writing an entry called “Belated Dream Log #4.” Until I submit that entry, I can’t submit this entry.
I just wanted to get that all out there. I know CS #12 was due last month, but these things oughta happen in some order. By the time you’re reading this, I will have uploaded Belated Dream Log #4 so all will be fine, I hope.
Now, without further ado, a confession.
Have you ever fallen in love, dear readers? I can’t say I have.
Yet, I can’t say I haven’t.
I’ve had a fondness over four guys in my lifetime so far. Some I did “like” more than the others. Some, I felt like I betrayed. Some, I feel like they betrayed me. I don’t wish to bear ill will against any of them because I know at one point in time, they were humans I wanted to keep all to myself.
I don’t know what love is. That is a confession, but it is not the confession for this session.
Love is, perhaps, the desire to have someone all to yourself. Perhaps it is a force which makes you selfish and makes you covet, covet, covet.
Or perhaps love is the desire to give all of yourself to one other. Perhaps it is a force which makes you selfless and makes you offer, offer, offer.
I’m lead to believe it is the unconditional enjoyment of another’s company. By this belief, I have been in love many times. I don’t want to admit it because I know not what love truly is.
In reality, I have felt several kinds of fondness. The first time I opened my heart to a guy was in grade two. His name is Calvin and he was the nicest, most obedient grade two student you ever did hear of. He was perfect in every aspect and I liked him a lot. To this day, I don’t know if that feeling has completely faded. It’s hard to stop liking a ghost.
The next time I liked someone was in grade seven. In this year, something in me changed. I, regrettably, liked two guys this year. To be honest, dear readers, every time my heart desires anyone else after Calvin, I feel like I betrayed him and, ultimately, myself. See, Calvin left my life while we were friends. We never officially declared our goodbyes because I heard word he would return. He never came back. I never saw him. Not yet.
In eighth grade, I decided to conduct a little experiment which went as planned. Unfortunately, I was hoping my hypothesis would prove incorrect. Curiosity got its way with me and I ended up liking yet another guy. This one was Number Nine. If you haven’t heard of him, feel free to check a few of my older archives. He managed to jumble my thoughts day in and day out. Impressive, really.
Now, in tenth grade, my heart is occupied with a figment of my past. That figment will read this journal entry one day, and he’ll know exactly who I’m talking about. Lately, my mind has wanted to return to him, but a part of me is trying hard to restrict me. Yet another war erupts in my mind.
Anyhow, these characters all exist in reality. I have, however, liked a few other guys.
I do occasionally obsess over fictional characters, a popular one being Tomoe of the Mikage Shrine from Kamisama Hajimemashita. His fox ears will forever captivate me.
I also fall for characters of my own imagination. I recently uploaded a log specifying the events of a dream referred to as the Three Days of Flight dream. Within that dream, I met a boy who I called Manhwa. He and I shared a close relationship. When I awoke the morning after, the idea of him stayed in my heart. I really liked him, dear readers.
Oh, Manhwa, if only you were a real person!
I don’t remember our conversations. I don’t remember his face or voice or the way he walked and phrased his sentences. I don’t remember a lot of him. I remember vaguely his height and his hair colour and his incredibly fortunate circumstances. I remember the bare skin of his stomach, too.
I also remembered how happy I was in his presence. Although I don’t remember what we talked about, I remember we talked and that through our exchanged words, we exchanged fondness. I remember how complete he made me feel and how easily he could do what he did. I remember how human he was and yet how perfect he seemed.
And I miss him. Sometimes, I reminisce on my fading memory of him. One day, I might forget him. I dread that day.
There was another dream I had. When I had this dream, I didn’t jot it down. My memory hardly covers anything, but I remember Achilles. At least, that’s what I think his name was.
There was a device in my dream which let you enter the world of your subconscious mind. I remember bits of what my world was like. I remember the streets of a city and the rounded architecture to symbolize how childish I was. I remember the high skies and how it was always days. I remember the fluffy clouds and I remember a magical tree. I remember the superhumans that infested my streets.
In particular, I remember an evil lady, clothed in tight fabrics of black and purple. She was sleek in figure and she could fly. She had to do with lasers of some sort and she was obsessed with wrecking havoc. What an impure soul she was, and she existed in my dream world in my dream.
I remember strolling through the streets when she appeared. I, too, had powers, but I can’t remember what they were. Instead of fighter her and protecting my world, I instead chose the cowardly path and hid in a crevice formed by fences or walls or something, I can’t remember. I was in a tight space, basically.
Behind me stood a boy, not nearly as tall as Manhwa. This boy was Achilles. He wasn’t the mythological Achilles. He was my Achilles.
I was backed up right into him and together we hid from the evil lady. We escaped eventually, though I can’t remember how. A lot happened and I can’t remember any of it.
I remember a tree. There was a dock somewhere in my dream world and nearby was an island with a tree. It was a massive tree with overbearing leaves and grew upon it a fruit. The fruit was infused with some sorcery, but I forgot what it was. I know death was a possible consequence. I don’t recall the possible reward, but I remember the risk was great enough for me to want to try it.
I was told that if you die in your dream, you die in reality. Some people have claimed that they underwent death in their dreams and you know what? I don’t believe them.
Achilles also believed this linked death idea. He was strongly against me even trying the fruit. I denied him any chance to change me and tried the fruit.
The fruit was small and resembled a single piece of a pomegranate. It glowed slightly, a swirl of pinks, purples, and void-like shadows. I ate it, avoiding the seed, and I was fine.
Or was I?
I don’t remember. I know I didn’t die, but what was my reward?
Shortly after this scene, I had to leave my dream world in my dream. I was still in my dream, but I was forced out of the dream world device. I mean, it makes sense that I couldn’t stay in there forever. I needed physical nutrition and nourishment. I needed to live reality for a fantasy to exist because the dream world happens in a mind of reality.
I remember my reluctance of leaving. Achilles was one of my reasons for wanting to stay. I liked him a lot, dear readers, even if I didn’t elaborate on our bondage.
I remember... returning to reality in the dream. Everything fine, I suppose, but I was visited by an episode of loneliness. When I tried returning to the dream world again, I couldn’t. I recall calling out to Achilles, trying to find him not only through the dream world device, but through my own sleep as well.
I remember waking up in the real reality and still missing Achilles. I remember trying to see Achilles in my dreams when I slept normally in reality. I remember how my heart sped up and how my cheeks would physically flush when I thought of him.
Achilles, I never did hope to see you in the real world. I just wanted someone to look forward to when I slept. I wanted someone to share more adventures with, someone to bewith. I wanted to feel that imaginary warmth and oh. Achilles, I wanted you.
I had a dream recently, a few days ago, in fact. Originally, I wasn’t going to include another story to this entry. However, I did meet someone else in my dream who I’ll henceforth call Nameless, for obvious reasons.
I don’t remember what Nameless looked like, but I do remember spending a lot of time with him. Actually, I made a brief note of my iPod yesterday of the dream. I’ll just type the note out again here.
I can't remember much, but there was a boy. He was taller than me, yes, but not too tall. He was, to my standards, just the right height. I told him of my hallucinations and he didn't think I was weird at all. I remember acting out the movements of the shadow ghost, how she slithered out from behind the door frame and how she never walked but crawled. We laughed because despite her presence, he couldn't see her so he wasn't scared. In his bravery, I found my own courage, and I felt safe. There was a scene where we were at a house. Music was playing and Skittles, my cat, was singing along. However, Skittles didn't sing the last notes. A phrase of song was nearing its end with Skittles singing along devotedly. When the last note came along, I sang in Skittles voice, "meow!" There was an audience spectating Skittles and they cheered for him when they finally heard that last note. They believed it was Skittles who sang, but it was me. The boy mentioned earlier laughed apart from the crowd. Or rather, he chuckled, saying "Aw, that was cute," and gave me the sweetest smile one could ever give. I got excited, blissfully overwhelmed, and got on the floor like a cat. He knelt down beside me and began petting me along the back of my head and down my back, again and again. It was soothing, so I softy purred.
Weird, eh? But this boy, Nameless, was really nice. I forgot most of the dream, but I feel like Nameless and I were really close. And, oof, I never knew being petting could be so nice! I usually whack any offenders of the act with my trusty pencil case. I could never hurt Nameless, though.
Anyways, I have to get started on something else, so I bid thee farewell. The confession today is that I can hold special feelings for fictional characters just as strongly as I do for those in reality. I know it’s odd, but that’s what makes it a worthy confession! Thanks for reading and I hope to see you around next time.
Oh, and meanwhile, have a go at guessing the artist and title of this song:
It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion
Gender to skin color, complexion of your pigment
The same fight that led people to walk-outs and sit-ins
Human rights for everybody, there is no difference
‘It is a song with a good meaning and a catchy melody. *nods deeply* Best of luck guessing! Comment below your answer and a reward shall be granted! Or comment because you’re nice. I accept all comments. Until next time!
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