Murderous in[Sanity]

Earlier today, I was speaking to some of my friends from hockey. It was early in the morning, but the heat was already seeping into everything and blurring it all into a big jumble of color and noise. A small group of us was relaxing on the sidelines, guzzling water like it was going out of fashion (sorry Coach, but the whole "three sips" thing doesn't cut it), and yapping like there was no tomorrow.

Not far into our little mix of words and mumblings, someone mentioned something about an annoying younger sibling. Able to relate, I tuned into that part of the conversation. It was Alyssa.

"She kept whining and screaming at me, and it was starting to make me really pissed off, you know?" Alyssa complained.

A couple of the girls lazily muttered their assent.

"So, like, I just took my glock and I hit her with it."

I stopped listening at that point and narrowed my eyes. A glock? What would Alyssa be doing with a glock? Was she involved in something dangerous? Was she a bad person? Had she killed people?

I have no idea why I suddenly got to thinking all of this -- perhaps it was the heat -- but after a while, I plucked up the courage to ask Ayssa why she had a glock in the first place. Laughing, she quickly corrected me by saying that I'd heard wrong.

"A clock," Alyssa told me, as if I was five and not fifteen. "I said I hit her with my clock."

You know what I say to that? Bullshit. That's right.

I mean, a clock? Who hits someone with their clock? That makes even less sense than my theory.

Despite her obvious attempt to reassure me, I am not convinced. Alyssa is full of secrets and lies and I'm determined to descover the mystery of the glock.

Don't kill me. I know what you're thinking. "Is she crazy? Don't those advertisements that she constantly sees on T.V. and websites completely ruin her day? Doesn't she practically have a heartattack every time she catches a mere glimpse of a pop-up she didn't call for?" The answer to all of these questions is yes. But call me not a hypocrite for displaying this following advertisement, because it's for a perfectly good cause (not like those "feed the starving children" ads; I mean, yeah I don't want kids starving, but let's be honest. That money will never make it any further than the company's pocket).

My personal muse, Soul Twin, and bestie-best-best friend in the whole entire world has finally made her own blog. (: <--- hey, look, a smiley face.

Anyway, you can find her right about...here. Wait no, that's not it...here? Nuh-uh. OH! Found her. She's right here.

And just in case you missed that... The Psalms of Fahlia.

Aily, you crazy bee-otch, I luffers yew. {insert smiley face}

I've decided to use this blog as more than an outlet, but as a running record of certain things that appeal to me, frighten me, amuse me, make me want to kill someone, etc, etc. With this is mind, I've also come to the conclusion that I have weird-ass dreams, so they will be included here among the rest of this badly-written, astoundingly ridiculous, and highly intoxicating mess that I have bravely dared to label as my blog. Whatever I happen to remember from my dreams (which occur during REM [Rapid Eye Movement] sleep; you see? Biology does come in handy) will most likely be displayed here as soon as I am able to reach my computer. (That is not to say that I'm ever not able to reach my computer. I mean, if I couldn't reach it, I'd be taking some things up with the Boss (Wo)Man, because this computer is -- sadly -- my life.) This said, I would like to introduce you to a snippet of a dream I recalled when my mother so rudely woke me up at 6:30AM for my hockey practice. I don't remember much of it, but this one scene is very vivid in my mind...

~

We were standing on a dusty road, on either side of which there was sand. Sand and a few rocks. A few miles away, I could spot palm trees, but I figured it was a hallucination. Instinctively, I knew that there was no sign of life nearby, besides the silent, friendly man before me. I knew his name, knew that he wanted me to go somewhere with him. But I also knew that he was manipuative, and I knew that he was not to be trusted.

"Come on," the man said. He was tall, and had sand-colored hair and extremely dark eyes that one moment could look blue and the other could seem green or black. He could not have been more than four or five years older than I was, and I was aware that he was very familiar to me.

"Come on," he repeated. "Let's get out of here. We can hit up Alabama or somethin'."

"No," I coughed out before repeating it more firmly: "No. Look, I can't keep doing this. I need stability in my life. All this traveling...it's crazy. I love it; but it's crazy. I can't...not anymore."

The man frowned and said nothing, and then he disappeared into the dream and I woke up.

~

It's rather odd, but I can see the scene now, as clearly as I could see the old run-down church in one of my other dreams. It's so vivid that if I had the skills (which I most certainly do not *grumblegrumble*), I could draw it exactly as I see it now. I'm not sure what it means, and I could really use some help...

Any ideas?