I sleep a lot, more than the average person, and more than the average high school boy, one of the things I have been hoping this blog will help with is the fact that I am clinically manic depressive. Which means I go through high periods, were I'm awake and planning, and doing normal stuff, well as normal as me and my friends get, I am just like any other teenager except that after a morning of doing normal stuff I tend to fall asleep and sleep till the end of the day, and then I take my lovely medications that keep me from being insane-o girl.
That above is explaining why I am posting a blog about a dream at eight o'clock in the evening. But recently my dreams have always ended the same way. I'm in a mall or some type of building that sells everything. I am always separated from my friends to begin with and as I look around the store, other dream things happen, like one time the people were all wearing celery costumes. This is my head. But everything feels typical then when the dream is close to being over, and I don't know how I know its close, its like there is an internal alarm that tells me I should start looking for my friends, and once I actively look for my friends a feel of pressure is put on me, for some reason I have to find my friends and find them fast.
I will be looking and starting to panic when I walk by a rack of clothes, a bush, a dark corner, but a hand will grab me by the ankle and i will be dragged into this little cubby hole and I will have found my friends, only they are not the friends I originally had, or to be more specific they were no longer the same age as the ones I had came with. Instead there are my four best friends, and they are all the same age we all were when we became best friends. So I have on my hands a secret door into a cubby hole and my middle school friends as they were in middle school, and I'm starting to freak out, cause dream me doesnt freak out till the end, and I'm trying to figure out how to age them back I get pulled again by ankle (and amazingly I didnt get a concussion during this dream with all the yanking I had to go through.) and I am again led back to another cubby hole only its filled with Izzy clothes, (noun: clothes that are either retro or off the salvation army rack and looking amazing, sparkly and bold, very bold) and there is Izzy only this time she is the right age and she is talking to me but I'm not listening because I just realized we were not in just any cubby holes, we were in the stage things that they put the models only its closed off with a door but there was no handle and Izzy is still talking to me and I keep looking for some way out, and the dream always ends with me realizing that I am stuck in the looking box as a living model, they would give me clothes to wear and Izzy and I would pose for hours never being allowed to ask for help, because no one seemed to think it was wrong. And this is where my dream ends.
This is my end dream, I don't often remember my actual dreams, but this dream I remember because I have it so much. It doesn't make sense, it changes in small ways every time I dream it and I almost expect to wake up in that box with Izzy. (Izzy is one of my best friends, we met in seventh grade, she is an amazing and wonderful person with the best and most exciting personality, I guarantee there will be more on her and all of my other friends if future blogs.)
So that was my dream, I put you out on the internet and let others besides me analyze the damn thing. If you managed to read that thank you, and I hope I didn't give you bad dreams.