Goals

The house I will live in will have a dining room, even if we never use it.
I won't be living alone.
There will be a room with large windows, but probably small with not much else in it. A solarium, if you will. (The light of the large windows and the ability to bask in the sun when it's available will make up for the lack of insulation / possible heating bill increase.)
There will be hard wood floors.
Hopefully, there will be a basement. If possible, it will be accessed by a trap door and be filled with play pen balls (the hard plastic ones. And they won't be nasty because there won't be random children with their random germs playing in them).
I will have a room, tiled or with linoleum on the floors and at least a foot and a half up the walls. I will then get giant rolls of paper and spread them along the walls and cover the floor in several layers of paper. Then I will get water-based paint. And then there will be loud music and old clothes and rolling around and laughter.
I will have a large dog and it will be fluffy and it will be named Alot because of Allie Brosh.

I will leave the country as soon as possible and for as long as possible, but for a limited time.

Hey, me, remember when?

My SubConscious is a Jerk

Recently, I've been having only super-realistic dreams instead of th ones you know are dreams or the ones that obviously logically aren't real, but could be, if only, you know, gravity worked differently (or whatever).

The problem with the super realistic ones is that they affect my judgments of people. Because I remember things happening that never actually happened. Last night, for example, apparently one of my friends saw me, and, in summation, told me all his friends hated me and couldn't understand why he hung out with me. And then his mother made fun of me, to my face, because she thought I was his girlfriend instead of recognizing me as myself.
Mmm... yeah.

The title stands.

Or not

I was going to write a post about the dream I had that I mentioned twice that made me wake up in the middle of the night and whisper "happy things happy thoughts happy thoughts happy things happy thoughts good happy nice happy" to myself under my breath, of course, so I wouldn't wake up my roommates.

However, it is past the time that I would like to be asleep, I have to be up at the normal time in the morning that only sounds early to people who sleep in every day, and I still have things I need to do before i go to bed. So.

Last night?
I dreamt (which is apparently not a word... who knew?) about an ugly tiger, being busy, having the latest ex call me to tell me something important to which i responded "yes, okay, I'm kind of in the middle of something..." which he interrupted with, sadly, "can't we just... talk?" Meaning he was sad. Not that it made me sad. That's when I saw the ugly tiger. It was in my neighbor's yard. Then somebody came over and I tried to take pictures of the ugly tiger on the camera on my phone. And then I was trying to show them to somebody. At some point, I hung up on the ex.

It's weird how much I dream about him. Like, I dream about people I actually know not very often and when I do it's in a super realistic you-could-be-awake-right-now sort of a dream. I've had a bunch of those about him, too, though. They confuse my feelings because sometimes I have a hard time differentiating between a dream and reality. Sad perhaps, but true. It makes me more careful when I talk to people, though, because if I can't remember exactly what they said in what exact situation, I have to allow the possibility that they never said it at all.
I've never dreamt this much about a boy before. It's weirding me out.
And then I wake up and tell myself "Does not matter." (I'm a little influenced by Nation, by Terry Pratchett, which you should probably go out and read right now.)

One day, I will stop caring whether or not I dream about you.