I know I've fallen short on a lot of stuff this last week... also Seg 1.1

Regular posts being one of them, as well as the discussion on the NoE, or the Nirvana of English. But you know what? You must find Nirvana on your own. No one can give you a detailed map of how to get there, its not a place, but a state of mind. And no, that does not mean you should break out the bongs Evergreen. But that being said, I can't really describe it. You have to journey there yourself, meaning sitting down, and writing for a couple hours until it just comes. Its a painful, danger fraught journey. Believe me. It is. I've managed to attain NoE on occasion, but it was never without good reason. Also often stress induced. So perhaps my path to NoE is stress, while yours may be meditation. If it is, can we trade? Please?

So, talking about writing, I watched a movie that really made me want to start writing again. And as this is basically a giant public internet journal, I've decided to just write it in here as I progress, probably on a chapter or segment basis. And it may (read - most likely will) taper off and die after a while, when I get tired of writing about the characters who seemed realistic or fun at the beginning. Now, when I do this, I will have a little header saying hey, this is now the next part of the book thingy (blook? Book/blog? Bloog?) so you guys can either skip it or read it. It will be... IDK. I'm feeling in the mood for writing some weird twistedy*ish murder psychological thriller. So be prepared, because dead people may show up in it. And some of those dead people may not be in very good shape at all when they do show up. So... Just read the disclaimer for the section before reading it. That way you could either get the summary cap of it, or decide to read it. Basically, enjoy.

Further, this will be my only post this week. This past week I was in a choir production musical thing, this week I'm running a youth camp. Busy busy! But I promise to come back and write you guys on occasion this summer. Meaning that I will write, and more regularly than I am now.

THIS IS THE HEADER I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT


So here is the segment this week... Shouldn't be any death or mayhem much this time. Just enjoy some backstory and character development!

Segment 1.1 (Part 1, chapter 1 - or however I decide later to arrange it)


Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so real, that when you woke up, it felt like falling asleep? That the waking, breathing world that we bustle to and from was fake, and what you saw in your dreams was what was really happening? The dreams were so close to reality that it almost made sense that I was simply living two lives, just one in my dreams and one when awake. You feel as though you're aging twice as fast, gaining twice as much life as everyone else. You feel like you're thirty at twenty, forty at twenty-five. If wasn't for the fact that your body needs sleep on occasion, I would stay up as much as possible. To experience dreams that real while asleep, to feel as though you're acting out someone else's life, but to wake up to your own life to live, its draining. 


In fact, I don't remember much of my childhood. My first memory was when I was six. I was laying on the grass, just looking up into a tree that held my tree fort. Actually, I remember it so well, that I can still recall my line of thoughts - Where am I? I'm looking around, And I see the tree fort. I latch onto that. It's my tree fort. I play in it every day. Why do I hurt? Why am I on the ground? Did I fall? I don't think I fell. I can't remember. Where's mommy? I can't get up, it hurts to breath. Is the tree fort going to fall? No, but someone's screaming now. It's loud. Mom? Is that you? Mom? MOM?

"Mom?"

 "Its ok, I'm here, I'm here" 

I'm being held by my mother. The wind blows a little, as mother holds my head. I try turning my head to look at her, but she holds me still and tells me not to move. I stop trying to move after that. There's leaves falling from the tree that my tree fort is in. Big leaves, floating down gently on a cushion of air. I try to imagine what it would be like to be like one of the leaves, to gently float down, but then my head starts hurting, and I forget about it. After a while, I remember men in costumes came to get me. They put me on a weird bed in a van, and then when they pulled me out, we were at a hospital. I didn't know then what one was at the time, just that it had hurt people there, and that I must be just another hurt person. 


From there on it becomes a blur, my memory fragments, and its not until my teen years that I really start remembering things again. I used to have these wicked dreams though, dreams where it felt like I was awake, but then I would wake up. It was always dreams about this one guy, being this one person. I went to school as him one time even. That was the day I stayed home and slept all day because I was really sick in junior high. It was just something really strange. I came up with a name for him even - Peter. Peter Holding. I gave him my last name because it was like I was him when I fell asleep. I thought though that Peter was a cool name, and so I just used it. It took a while, but then the people in the dreams that I met started calling me Peter, and so it stuck. 


Then I got done with school, and I started going to work. I was going to go into counseling, but I finally discovered I just didn't feel comfortable talking to strangers about their problems. I had always been told I was a great listener, and so I thought it would be a great job for me, but turns out it wasn't. Since I dropped from the program around the time when I was about to intern with a local school I've become somewhat of a night owl. I don't get up much during the day, and I go out and hit up the clubs at night. I have a friend, Darren, who goes with me and sometimes we just bar hop all night long, staggering home at 5 in the morning just to fall asleep and then go about and do the same all over. The drinking helps though - it means I don't dream. I'm tired of dreaming of some Peter that has the job that I thought I was going to be good at, and who has a great life. Me, I'm just happy that theres money in the bank, and that I can go have fun, but I feel like something is missing. I can't figure out what it is though, and its just always there, nagging, constantly nagging, at the back of your brain, telling you that you know you know something, but you've forgotten what that something is, which makes it all the more horrible, because its something you need. 


Now though, with the drinking, its rare that I dream of being Peter, for which I'm thankful. Its rare that I dream at all actually, its become where its usually just a blank space of time from when I fall asleep to when I wake up again. 


I don't even know why I'm writing this, its not like writing what I feel is going to help at all. If by writing a couple words on a page I could figure out what it is that I feel I'm missing, then it would just be great. But it isn't working so far, so I guess I may just have to try something else. Maybe go see a shrink. That might be a good idea. I just hope that they can help instead of just taking your money and leaving. Peter goes to a couple, and they never seem to be able to help him with his problems, whatever they are. I always seem to miss the dreams that would explain them. It's like an episodic show going on in my head at night, and I'm missing most of the episodes. 


But still, I'm just thankful that I've discovered how to not dream of him too much. 


END


And there you go, its just a little snippet. There'll be more, I promise, I'm just exhausted and need to go to bed. So goodnight!