<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:22:39.477-08:00</updated><category term='looking'/><category term='soulmates'/><category term='dad'/><category term='sad'/><category term='heaviness'/><category term='ballet'/><category term='dream within a dream'/><category term='nightmare'/><category term='erin'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='death'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='floor'/><category term='robot'/><category term='Walt'/><category term='boat'/><category term='hypnagogia'/><category term='hair'/><category term='train'/><category term='bike'/><category term='shelter'/><category term='stairs'/><category term='window'/><category term='teacher'/><category term='hiding'/><category term='Caleb'/><category term='family'/><category term='anger'/><category term='dating'/><category term='Oakdale'/><category term='bed'/><category term='bus'/><category term='grandma'/><category term='work'/><category term='waking myself up'/><category term='Niki'/><category term='broken'/><category term='electrocution'/><category term='Childhood'/><category term='problems keeping up'/><category term='ugly'/><category term='tornado'/><category term='lightning'/><category term='crush'/><category term='store'/><category term='transformation'/><category term='grief'/><category term='cats'/><category term='peeping'/><category term='school'/><category term='game'/><category term='heart'/><category term='drinking'/><category term='building'/><category term='flying'/><category term='movie'/><category term='rain'/><category term='bar'/><category term='escape'/><category term='sleep paralysis'/><category term='victim'/><category term='Thane'/><category term='sick'/><category term='Mather'/><category term='closet'/><category term='love'/><category term='with women'/><category term='belongings'/><category term='cleaning'/><category term='hospital'/><category term='moving'/><category term='animals'/><category term='bath'/><category term='reflection'/><category term='hurt'/><category term='Ville Valo'/><category term='Dana'/><category term='glasses'/><category term='blood'/><category term='Devin'/><category term='indecision'/><category term='help'/><category term='airport'/><category term='rhythm'/><category term='sex'/><category term='crowd'/><category term='water'/><category term='with men'/><category term='warrens'/><category term='picture'/><category term='basement'/><category term='clothes'/><category term='celebrities'/><category term='planes'/><category term='minnesota'/><category term='murder'/><category term='computer'/><category term='kiss'/><category term='mom'/><category term='age'/><category term='learning'/><category term='car'/><category term='friends'/><category term='competing'/><category term='hat'/><category term='idea'/><category term='children'/><category term='Sarah'/><category term='scared'/><category term='Joran'/><category term='cop'/><category term='vampires'/><category term='tomah'/><category term='music'/><category term='theater'/><category term='dog'/><category term='ghost'/><category term='book'/><category term='fight'/><category term='television'/><category term='toys'/><category term='m'/><category term='falling'/><category term='running'/><category term='flood'/><category term='call'/><category term='food'/><category term='eating'/><category term='religion'/><category term='house'/><category term='woods'/><category term='colors'/><category term='tegan quin'/><category term='lucid dream'/><category term='vancouver'/><category term='Sara Quin'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>The Hypnagogic Heroine</title><subtitle type='html'>"well I could sleep forever, but it's of her I dream."</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>206</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-574935495668041139</id><published>2011-03-25T16:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T16:21:40.019-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Snake Playing Poker.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my friend Anna visited me, but we never got to see each other. Anytime I would wake up, she'd be sleeping and vice versa. When I finally did wake up when she was awake, she wasn't herself anymore, she was an old elementary school friend. Also, she and my sister and I were playing poker with this snake/human hybrid. It was weird. It looked like a snake but it talked to us and could do human-like things... Like play poker. Anyways, my sister told the snake not to bite me or my sister because we were both pregnant.... Which we're not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-574935495668041139?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/574935495668041139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/snake-playing-poker.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/574935495668041139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/574935495668041139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/snake-playing-poker.html' title='Snake Playing Poker.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3202402994636081054</id><published>2011-03-25T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T16:11:03.063-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Invention</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at this bar I go to in real life and one of the bartenders needed help, so I got behind the bar to help out. I hear a scratch at the door and I see my dog poking his head into the window, so I run over to let him in and somehow every time I try to open the door, an alarm goes off. Then I left and got into a car with my aunt and mother in the front seat, and in the back was this older blonde chick and me. We held hands at first and eventually held both. Then she went in to kiss me (annnnnd some), but I stopped her because I remembered I was still with Devin. Then I worked at this place where people used their credit card like a barcode against this USB stick-looking thing. It was really cool in my dream and I woke up thinking it would make a handy invention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3202402994636081054?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3202402994636081054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/invention.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3202402994636081054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3202402994636081054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/invention.html' title='Invention'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2975234552480500420</id><published>2011-03-25T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T15:46:59.868-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Driver's Seat</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this field, carrying a Beach Boys cd and walking to my aunt's car. I start driving and suddenly I'm driving erratically and I'm in the passenger's seat. I can't reach the pedals, so I try to get back into the driver's seat before a cop sees me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/r2oarc6G9YQ" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2975234552480500420?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2975234552480500420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/drivers-seat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2975234552480500420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2975234552480500420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/drivers-seat.html' title='Driver&apos;s Seat'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/r2oarc6G9YQ/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6951778095880223017</id><published>2011-03-25T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T15:41:50.087-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><title type='text'>Stevie Nicks All Up In My Dash.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at my grandfather's house and my whole family (on my dad's side) were watching Everybody Loves Raymond in the living room. I was wearing overalls clearly too big. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was also on Tumblr and there were a bunch of Stevie Nicks pictures all over the site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6951778095880223017?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6951778095880223017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/stevie-nicks-all-up-in-my-dash.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6951778095880223017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6951778095880223017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/stevie-nicks-all-up-in-my-dash.html' title='Stevie Nicks All Up In My Dash.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3112216726360522441</id><published>2011-03-25T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T15:36:42.156-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='call'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Fake Sister</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that I was hanging out with an ex-friend from high school. We were at Goodwill and the place was a mess, so I offered to help pick up all the clothes on the floor. When I finished, one of the workers came over and told me that I probably wouldn't get rewarded or anything for it because Goodwill is ungrateful and stupid. Eden (the ex-friend) and I meet up and she gets a phone call from her mother's friend and tells me that he's a creep and she hands me the phone to listen in, but I hang up a few minutes later completely disgusted. Then my dad walks over with this little girl I've never seen before and he tells me that she's my "little sister" and I get confused because I know I only have two older siblings and my sister looks nothing like her.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then somehow I am on my parents' property and I'm still living with my family (my parents weren't divorced). My mom made dinner and was outside with everyone, so I snuck in to see what she made. After looking at all the food on the table, I noticed that I accidentally left the door open and let in a whole bunch of cats. I grabbed them individually (there had to be maybe ten or so) and threw them outside. I was pretty rough throwing them out for some reason, maybe out of embarrassment for letting them in. Anyways, once they are all thrown out, I realize it's raining and cold out. Then I hear mewing. It's a baby cat that I threw out. I felt awful throwing out such a little thing, so I rush over to pick him up but I notice he's a full-size cat and his legs are broken and bleeding from when I threw him. I feel so awful when I see he's broken in places. I can even see bones protruding out and I feel like the most horrible person that ever existed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3112216726360522441?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3112216726360522441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/fake-sister.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3112216726360522441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3112216726360522441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/fake-sister.html' title='Fake Sister'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6534605358329447346</id><published>2011-03-05T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T13:58:21.151-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shelter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='learning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='warrens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Don't Fear The Reaper.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dreamt I was on my parents' property just near the outskirts, close to the neighbor's cranberry marsh. My sister and I were being chased by this angry bear and we were running towards this truck. I see an asian woman on the other side of the truck and I yell to her about the bear. I see that her truck is smashed in through the windshield, so my sister and I crawl in that way and the asian woman follows. She takes her time getting around the car and as I try to pull her in through the windshield and the bear is getting closer, I appear next to my parents' house, so I don't know what happened to her. There was a guy that was standing near me and and he told me that Death has been watching me and following me. I kind of freaked out and ran into the house, thinking I was going to die or something. Then I freaked out even more when this other guy flew into the house. He had these black wings with purple smoke emitting off the wings and he was wearing all black.. I was terrified. I thought he was going to kill me and I asked him if I was going to die. He said, "Not if you'll let me help you." Then he pointed to my stomach and told me that a while ago I had a baby but lost it and that he needed to get rid of it because it was still inside of me and killing me. He took out this sack of seashells and put them in his hand. He told me to take it and it'll help with the pain. I asked him if I had to take one or the whole handful, and he laughed and told me to just take one. So I ate it and he laid me down on the floor and cut me open and pulled out my stomach and produced these tiny things that looked like Jelly Bellies. When I saw the jelly bellies I knew there was always something wrong with my digestion, and seeing this confirmed it. Then my sister Sarah came in and I told her what was going on and I showed her the incision, though I wasn't looking, and she freaked out and told me I was losing a lot of blood. Then all I see is her in the room, narrating the whole thing and showing pictures of our childhood and how much of a good sister I was to her. As if I died.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(28, 40, 55); line-height: 19px; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6534605358329447346?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6534605358329447346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/dont-fear-reaper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6534605358329447346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6534605358329447346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/dont-fear-reaper.html' title='Don&apos;t Fear The Reaper.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8848776290870118538</id><published>2011-03-05T13:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T13:45:56.665-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems keeping up'/><title type='text'>Valentines Day 2011</title><content type='html'>Valentines Day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dreamt I was dancing with Tegan Quin to the song "When I See You Smile". It was the acoustic version. She kept swaying too fast for the song and I tried to hold on tight and make her move slower, but she was a lot stronger than me. I kissed the side of her neck, below her ear, hoping she'd slow down a bit, but she still kept going too fast for the song, so I gave up and danced at the same beat as her. When I woke up, the song (that version) was playing on the radio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8848776290870118538?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8848776290870118538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/valentines-day-2011.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8848776290870118538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8848776290870118538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/valentines-day-2011.html' title='Valentines Day 2011'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1718447065404806128</id><published>2011-03-05T13:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-05T13:37:31.318-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Hitchhiking.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this city and saw two tour buses parked beside a building. Then I see this guy and I start to console with him about a problem, but he shoves a gun in my face and walks me away from the city and into the woods. He ditches me when we get far enough in. Some how I have a baby with me and I walk around in the woods trying to find my "Uncle's farm". It's getting dark and I eventually find a road and try to hitchhike, but there are no traffic on this road. I start walking down the road and  see a woman my age with a baby as well, so I stop to talk to her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1718447065404806128?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1718447065404806128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/hitchhiking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1718447065404806128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1718447065404806128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/03/hitchhiking.html' title='Hitchhiking.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2042027624683727269</id><published>2011-02-21T11:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T12:06:08.123-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heaviness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dreamt I either kissed Sara Quin or was at least dating her.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was in this casino and met this guy. We went to this snowy mountain and he told me I would find peace if I slid down this bluish snow/sand on the mountain. I slid down but it freaked me out. It felt more like quicksand and also the blue sand/snow was collapsing from mountains higher than the one I was sliding down, and it was falling in around me. I wasn't scared in my body really, I was more projecting the feelings of terror outside of my body. Like I was also watching myself from above and freaking out in that body. Eventually I slid UP another hill (I know that sounds ridiculous) and  at first I thought this was a good idea being higher but another landslide hits me and I can't breathe. I wake up breathing heavily.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2042027624683727269?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2042027624683727269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/dreamt-i-either-kissed-sara-quin-or-was.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2042027624683727269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2042027624683727269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/dreamt-i-either-kissed-sara-quin-or-was.html' title=''/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6700996967518870393</id><published>2011-02-21T11:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T11:58:34.626-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waking myself up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lucid dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='broken'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>End Of The World</title><content type='html'>I'm at my parents' old house and I have my dog in my arms. I hear people singing in the trees outside. I'm not sure what song, it could have been three (very different) songs..: Don't Fear The Reaper, Thank God I'm A Country Boy, or America The Beautiful. I know, how can I possibly not tell these songs apart? I don't know. Anyways, I walk outside to see who is singing in the trees, but instead I look over in the direction the sun is setting, near the cranberry marsh. I watch as fireworks go off. Then suddenly the sky gets dark and there are lights lighting up in odd places in the sky. I think that it's the end of the world and I cling to my dog as tightly as possible. I turn around, not wanting to see what will happen, but when I turn, I am back in the position I was in, facing the cranberry marsh. I turn around again and still I am facing the cranberry marsh. I do this a few times, utterly confused as to why I couldn't turn around. At some point when I turn around I notice a white shadow of a person in the reflection of the window in the door. I freak out and close my eyes and cradle my dog in my arms, trying to wake myself up. I wake up in bed and hear Devin watching TV (the video looks like old-school Little Rascals and the audio is super loud and it sounds like newer Rob Zombie music). I think to myself that this must have been why I was having a nightmare. I grab my journal to write down my dream but the journal breaks apart and pages fall out. I still continue to write instead of grabbing pages and worrying about my journal and that's when I notice that this isn't right, so I must be dreaming. Then I really wake up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6700996967518870393?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6700996967518870393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/end-of-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6700996967518870393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6700996967518870393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/end-of-world.html' title='End Of The World'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7391861539976996744</id><published>2011-02-21T11:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T11:41:49.808-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peeping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>The Radio Announcement.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was with family and that my cousin Mel was telling us that her two birds died. Then my mom told my sister and I that she was getting married to this guy she has been seeing. We're happy for her, although at first my sister wasn't. Then I'm this actress that hasn't acted in awhile. I look a bit like Kate Hudson in my dream, so maybe I was supposed to be her. Anyways, I am on the roof of my dad's chicken coop (when I was younger my sister and I would climb a ladder and sit up there and watch my dad and his friends party down the hill by our pond, so maybe I was visiting my home and trying to do the things I once did). I jumped off the roof and landed perfectly fine. Then I started walking up to the house and could hear the radio playing. I heard an announcer say, "Alyssa Oppelt's father passed away last month and.." I didn't hear the rest. I wasn't surprised when I heard the news, so I guess I knew about this. Anyways, I was in a somber mood and walked around towards the front yard and stopped by my mom's old green car she used to drive. It was open and that was where the radio came from. I turned the radio off and noticed an old necklace I wore when I was younger (in the dream. Not in real life..), so I picked it up. One of our bedroom windows was open, so I looked for a skeleton key to open the house door with, but couldn't find one. I kept walking to the front yard and saw my mom and sister cleaning up the yard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7391861539976996744?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7391861539976996744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/radio-announcement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7391861539976996744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7391861539976996744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/radio-announcement.html' title='The Radio Announcement.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4145219709541064797</id><published>2011-02-21T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T11:31:40.079-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><title type='text'>Visiting Dana In Madison.</title><content type='html'>My friend Dana spent the night here, so I dreamt that she and I were planning on having me come to Madison to see her. We were looking at our schedules and seeing what days worked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4145219709541064797?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4145219709541064797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/visiting-dana-in-madison.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4145219709541064797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4145219709541064797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/visiting-dana-in-madison.html' title='Visiting Dana In Madison.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-590367730872426536</id><published>2011-02-21T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T11:29:11.153-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>The Invisible Troll.</title><content type='html'>I just spent an hour online looking for the dream I swear I posted somewhere on some site and finally realized that an hour searching is a lot longer than ten minutes writing the damn thing all over again, so I'll just do that.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dreamt I was at my aunt's house and Tegan and Sara were having a concert outside. My boyfriend's birthday was that day apparently, so they called him up and invited his family and they were about to invite me up but I noticed my mom wasn't with me and the rest of my family, so I wandered off to look for her. I walked to where I grew up and went to the chicken coop on my parent's property and searched for her in there. There were two people in there, so I asked them if they saw her and they told me that she and two others were kidnapped. They just disappeared, all on separate occasions. I rounded up my sister and some other girl and we all held hands and were about to head back to my aunt's house in the dark, but I saw movement in the woods. I pointed and told them that I &lt;i&gt;knew&lt;/i&gt; that whatever was moving in the woods is what kidnapped mom. Suddenly I also knew that whatever kidnapped her was this invisible creature.. Like a troll-type of creature. We keep walking through the woods, still holding hands, until we get towards the swampier areas of the woods on my parent's property. Somehow we gain weapons.. Pickaxes and things like that. And then I'm being dragged by something I cannot see. I want my sister and this other woman to just kill this beast now, but I know that if they do, we will never see Mom again. Eventually he lets go of me and we immediately kill him. Then we notice what looks like a fresh and unpacked dirt-mound. I begin digging with my hands, hoping that this is the beast's lair and that Mom was somewhere nearby. I make a good-sized hole in the ground and I yell really loud for Mom. I can't tell if I am hearing her or my echo, but something inside me tells me that I &lt;i&gt;know&lt;/i&gt; that if I dig further down, I'll find a tunnel and that this is why my voice could be echoing or why hers could be so quiet and that maybe it's her echo I'm hearing. I wake up before I have a chance to dig any further down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-590367730872426536?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/590367730872426536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/invisible-troll.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/590367730872426536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/590367730872426536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/invisible-troll.html' title='The Invisible Troll.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7989407024911945951</id><published>2011-02-21T10:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T10:32:35.649-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>In The Backseat.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was with Devin and this other couple. We were dropping the couple off to their house. Before this, we were in some place and the man in the relationship kept trying to flirt with me but he really turned me off because he was really religious. I and the woman were both in the backseat and the men were in the front seats. I don't know what came over me, but I put my hand on the woman's thigh and she didn't flinch. Soon enough we were both feeling each other up. Eventually I woke up in a REALLY good mood, if you know what I mean. lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7989407024911945951?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7989407024911945951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/in-backseat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7989407024911945951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7989407024911945951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/in-backseat.html' title='In The Backseat.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5650125701773646980</id><published>2011-02-21T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T10:29:08.523-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='learning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><title type='text'>There Is No Fate But What We Make For Ourselves.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was Linda Hamilton. :) lol. A meteor had hit Earth and I woke up and called for a private helicopter. Meanwhile, I walked to this building that is like a quarantine. While the staff there was trying to make sure I was alright, I was thinking to myself that in the future they would 'clean' me and find something strange and want to fix me, but in the process the way that they fix me makes me come into contact with something that ends up giving me cancer. I tell myself I need to make sure they don't fix me, this why I can change fate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5650125701773646980?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5650125701773646980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/there-is-no-fate-but-what-we-make-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5650125701773646980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5650125701773646980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/there-is-no-fate-but-what-we-make-for.html' title='There Is No Fate But What We Make For Ourselves.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5189007446968529354</id><published>2011-02-21T09:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T10:19:34.184-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='robot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><title type='text'>Beam Me Up, Scotty.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was with my sister Sarah and our friend Heather and that we made a robot. They wanted to go get something for the robot and I was about to follow but I noticed my bird CL and he was really hungry and thirsty and looked weak. I gave him food and water. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was on this spaceship with Devin and some other woman. (Possibly Tegan Quin?) I don't really remember but in my notes I wrote that it could have been hear. Devin was flirting with some other woman (not the one that may have been Tegan) and it pissed me off. I was playing poker with two girls I used to be friends with and I ended up losing the game. Then somehow all three of us (not the woman he was flirting with) were being followed by these bad guys wearing these long robes and their faces were shadowed by hoods. They were following us because I lost at the poker game. We got into this elevator and Devin tried to teleport is to safety (a la "Beam Me Up, Scotty") but the transportation wouldn't work. The way it worked was that we would huddle together in a hug, but whenever we would disappear, we would re-appear in the same place. The elevator opens and we rush around down a hallway and I grab this card that looks kind of like a credit card and I slide it into this machine but it's taking forever to start up. (This machine could have possibly been a transportation device I'm guessing). It was taking forever so we decided to go into this cafeteria, hoping we could get lost in the sea of faces. When we walk into the cafeteria we all look different. Tegan and I are dressed like men and are sporting these short wigs and Devin is in a long wig and wearing women's clothing. The guard also comes in dressed like a woman as well when he is clearly a man. He looks over at us and notices out actual hair poking out of our wigs but he doesn't do anything because he feels silly dressed like a woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5189007446968529354?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5189007446968529354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/beam-me-up-scotty.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5189007446968529354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5189007446968529354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/02/beam-me-up-scotty.html' title='Beam Me Up, Scotty.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5803337512278444549</id><published>2011-01-31T01:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:47:26.163-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='age'/><title type='text'>Sara Quin - Super Hero.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dreamt Sara Quin wrote this graphic novel and that it kind of became a part of my dream. I saw Sara on this roof dressed all in black (not like, super hero lycra outfits or anything. To be honest, it very well could have been black denim jeans and jacket. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(28, 40, 55); line-height: 19px; font-family:arial, verdana, tahoma, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://board.heartagram.com/public/style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif" class="bbc_emoticon" alt=":lol:" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; vertical-align: middle; " /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;) and she had superhuman powers and strength. She had this slight evil-vibe but I think she was a good person. She was fighting this other guy on the roof and they were kind of fighting quite obnoxiously. Bashing each other into things and breaking shit. Eventually she won the fight and the guy's body disappeared. Then she starts narrating my dream. I see this wedding and I hear her talking in my dream, inside my head, but not directly in the dream. I saw this teenage Sara-looking girl with super long hair dressed in this white ruffly dress walk out and Sara started narrating in the dream something about how she was about to meet another person with superhuman powers. Then a little girl that is dressed similar to her and has the same long hair and same brown eyes (the only difference if any is maybe a decade in age. This little girl was probably 5 or 6, while "Sara" looked to be about 17 or 18.) The dream ended with a camera zoom into the girl and then the 'camera/my view' stopped moving and let the girl and Sara both walk down the aisle, away from view.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(28, 40, 55); line-height: 19px; font-family:arial, verdana, tahoma, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5803337512278444549?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5803337512278444549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/sara-quin-super-hero.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5803337512278444549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5803337512278444549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/sara-quin-super-hero.html' title='Sara Quin - Super Hero.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1893659468790456970</id><published>2011-01-31T01:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:42:55.470-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='m'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><title type='text'>Came In Through The Basement Window.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I had to carry my old dog Skippy (now deceased) because he was trying to fight with another dog.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dreamt I was in a pond and the water was cold. My dad and some other guy was on this small floatation device and I swam over and tried to get on as well, but it almost tipped over. They got mad at me and told me to get away. I swam away and somehow found myself on land, near my parents' old house. My dad and the guy is also on land and the guy with my dad is very, very evil. I run around the house to the front yard and I notice the grass is on fire. There is smoke everywhere. The evil guy is looking for me but since the smoke is so thick, he can't see me. He runs off into the woods thinking I went that way and I walk towards the house with this puppy and I'm about to go into the house but I notice this bigger dog wanting into this basement window near the front door. (My old house never had a basement, FYI.) I walk over to it and look inside. I pick the big dog up and set him down into the basement and crawl in through the window with the puppy. I start worrying that the big dog tricked me and was just luring me into the basement so the evil guy could get to me. Like they were both in on something. And of course, I notice a staircase going down somewhere in the basement and I see the evil guy. He sees me and he starts racing up the stairs to get to me. I crawl up through the window with the puppy and even try to grab the big dog and help him out as well. When everyone is out, I run with the puppy towards the road to get help.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1893659468790456970?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1893659468790456970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/came-in-through-basement-window.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1893659468790456970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1893659468790456970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/came-in-through-basement-window.html' title='Came In Through The Basement Window.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2592367206853337856</id><published>2011-01-31T01:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:29:24.594-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bath'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='competing'/><title type='text'>Dare Me To Stick My 'D' Out?</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this class and that people were dying off. We were all trying to figure out why people were dying. One of the guys in the class died on the spot and I told everyone I had just seen him healthy as a horse a few minutes ago. This troubled us and we all were worried it was something viral and untreatable. The classroom switched to my parents' kitchen and there was this real pretty girl I had a crush on. I wanted to ask her out, but so did my boyfriend Devin (not my boyfriend in my dream, though). For some very strange reason, he pulls his pecker out and tried to tease her with it. I shit you not, it was practically a foot long. He even whipped her with it at one point. I scolded him and took him into the bathroom and told him that women don't like men that show themselves like that. We like a mystery. I don't know why I was giving him pointers if I liked the girl so much, but I did. Anyways, I told him to get into the shower because we thought this might keep us from dying. (Maybe 'cleansing' the problem? I don't know..) I kept giving him pointers and eventually opened the curtain to find a dog. I start giving the dog a bath, not noticing that it was Devin just a second ago. I can hear my mom outside telling someone that I am taking forever and that it's probably because of my gloves. I look at my hands and notice I have thick gloves on. I take them off and finish giving the dog a bath. Then I pick the dog up and we walk out of the bathroom and are in this gas station. While I was giving the dog a bath, my mom was annoying me with questions like "What calendar do you want?" and things like that. It annoyed me, because I just wanted to hurry up and give the dog his bath. I ended up telling her to just give me whatever calendar my aunt didn't want.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I might have to blame my friend Anna for this dream and for reminding me about Andy Milonakis and me having to youtube his videos again for a laugh. In one of his videos, he's in a grocery store asking people, "You dare me to stick my 'D' out?" haha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2592367206853337856?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2592367206853337856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/dare-me-to-stick-my-d-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2592367206853337856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2592367206853337856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/dare-me-to-stick-my-d-out.html' title='Dare Me To Stick My &apos;D&apos; Out?'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2479572666267785819</id><published>2011-01-31T01:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:13:46.209-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Niki'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Spooky Staircase.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my sister, my cousin Jaelyn and I were sitting at a cafeteria table. We were watching (a projection of? maybe?) my sister and her ex-friend Niki sitting at another table. The two were pointing at a calendar and started fighting about something. My sister (the one at my table) asks me why the two are fighting, and my cousin and I tell her why. Apparently we all have to spend the night in this haunted house. Still at the table, I grabbed for a McChicken (I have no clue why I'm eating mcdonald's snadwiches. I would never..) but couldn't find mine. I looked around and saw Jaelyn's boyfriend with is grubby hands on it. I was super worried that it was my sandwich, but I was starving. I eventually found mine somewhere on the table and ate it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started waking up at this point, but while I was, I dreamt that I was walking up this spooky staircase in a mansion at night with a candelabra. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2479572666267785819?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2479572666267785819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/spooky-staircase.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2479572666267785819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2479572666267785819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/spooky-staircase.html' title='Spooky Staircase.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1791647932132531104</id><published>2011-01-31T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:06:48.343-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='age'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><title type='text'>Come To My Window.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I heard Sara Quin singing a little bit of Leo Sayer's You Make Me Feel Like Dancing. Then I was walking down the street and I can hear this music playing in my head and I start strutting down the street. I. DON'T. KNOW. WHY. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also dreamt I talked with my friend Anna on the phone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was a little girl, maybe 6 years old, and I was alone in this hallway (that was also a thrift store) trying to put on this skirt that was too small. There were people one room away and their voices were getting closer and I was getting worried they would see my underwear. It was a family that walked in. I don't remember if the skirt ever got on, but I remember a little boy that the family brought in had a crush on me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And also dreamt that I was in my old childhood bedroom and could hear the actress AJ Langer talking outside my bedroom (in the living room) about how she was getting married soon and that she was worried her budget wasn't going to work for it. She wanted to go back to college and she was 26 already. She was worried she wouldn't have a shot at going back to school. She started crying outside and left the house and walked around past my window and when she saw me she stopped and looked at me. I opened the window and she crawled in. I told her that I heard her dilemma and that I was so sorry about everything she was going through. She talked about her budget for a second and I listened intently. When she finished telling me her problem, I gave her a big hug. I had the urge to kiss her but I knew it was all in vain. Instead, I told her she was such a good friend to me. Suddenly my hair falls out in clumps while I hug her and I freak out. I scream a little and this father figure walks in. He's pissed that me hair was cut. Apparently the little boy from the last part of the dream had cut my hair without my knowledge. The father figure yells at me for getting into a situation like this and AJ tells me she's had similar stalker issues before. While this dad is yelling at me, AJ and I are pulling out the loose hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1791647932132531104?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1791647932132531104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/come-to-my-window.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1791647932132531104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1791647932132531104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/come-to-my-window.html' title='Come To My Window.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1041220202842724477</id><published>2011-01-31T00:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T00:47:49.672-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='minnesota'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Gardening In The Streets.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at school but the school was set up like a hospital. The school was filled with evil people, so I needed to escape. I was in an upper level of the school and found this phone booth on the wall and go over to call someone. My sister Sarah was a (good) nurse or something in the school, so I called her and told her we should both leave. She agrees and we decide to meet up in the lobby downstairs. We both enter the lobby at the same time, from different elevators. We walk outside and as I am getting into a van I get confused or something and I start telling her that I just had a dream about her where we tried to escape from somewhere. The van has some old classmates of mine in it, so I chat with them for awhile. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt that I was wearing this green halter top and I had ginormous breasts. (I don't in real life. LOLOL.) I am looking in the mirror as my boyfriend Devin is fixing my hair for me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt; that I was still living with my mom and sister in this house of my grandpa's and we all had our own dogs but they were all misbehaving and when I walked outside, my mom was doing gardening in the STREET. Along with her neighbor, who had a huge garden and greenhouse in the intersection. The road was there, but was cut in squares in the parts where the flowers were.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(28, 40, 55); line-height: 19px; "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1041220202842724477?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1041220202842724477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/gardening-in-streets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1041220202842724477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1041220202842724477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/gardening-in-streets.html' title='Gardening In The Streets.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8537833427504248241</id><published>2011-01-31T00:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T00:38:24.333-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='call'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>50s Party.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my friend Heather called me. She needed to exchange money or a letter to my dad.  My dad had to be at this 50's Party for work or something, so he was in a hurry. He tells me to let her know that she could meet him there but that she needs to wear a dress. She says, "NO!" and the phone is silent. I hang up after awhile and tell my dad that she'd meet him outside.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also I dreamt I saw these photos of Tegan Quin in bed with some long-haired brunette. Only Tegan looked a LOT like a dude.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8537833427504248241?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8537833427504248241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/50s-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8537833427504248241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8537833427504248241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/50s-party.html' title='50s Party.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6342385455901446690</id><published>2011-01-31T00:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T00:33:20.952-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><title type='text'>Cindy &amp; Lisa.</title><content type='html'>Okay, I know this COULD make sense, but it doesn't to me, so I'm going to write word-for-word what I wrote in my dream:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Pushing people around in floating chair (in old house). Cindy &amp;amp; Lisa, Also, getting married everyone wants us to change the date from Fri to Sat."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know any Lisas. I have an Aunt Cindie though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6342385455901446690?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6342385455901446690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/cindy-lisa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6342385455901446690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6342385455901446690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/cindy-lisa.html' title='Cindy &amp; Lisa.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1007323942238027760</id><published>2011-01-31T00:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T01:49:01.281-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belongings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>Miss You Terribly.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt people were dying. I was outside by my parents' garage with Devin. He turns to me and tells me he thinks he's dying, too. He slowly falls to the ground and lays down. I lay next to him. We're right in front of the garage door and I hold his hands and watch him as he slowly dies. I tell him that I only ever loved him and maybe one other (WHY I mentioned another, I don't know. I guess I'm a bitch in my dreams..), and that I'll miss him terribly. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I'm in my parents' kitchen. It seems like a few hours had passed, although it feels like Devin's funeral is taking place or something. I'm with a few people talking and we're all in somber moods. I look out the kitchen window and see the garage. I look at where Devin was and there was nothing there except a bunch of hats. I think to myself that I really need to go outside and try to find out what hat Devin wore, because I want to keep it for myself. As a memory of him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also had a small dream in which I was at Wal-Mart and I passed this heavy, bulky thing with a balloon tied to it and I accidentally bumped into the thing. Instead of the thing falling over, it started floating up. I quickly grabbed it and tried to find ways to keep it from floating without getting anyone's attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1007323942238027760?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1007323942238027760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/miss-you-terribly.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1007323942238027760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1007323942238027760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/miss-you-terribly.html' title='Miss You Terribly.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1360676847403183721</id><published>2011-01-31T00:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T00:18:35.344-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Tomato In My Mouth.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that I was cleaning my house (although the house didn't really look like my own). I was doing laundry mainly and this felt really, really real. I also had sharp deja vu in this part of the dream, as if I had been in this house in real life. While cleaning, I felt really lonely. No one was home except me and I was worried about being alone.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt Devin's cousin and wife were in the backseat of my Mustang. Nobody was driving, I was just cleaning it out. I grab things out of the middle compartment and I see these strawberries (that eventually turn into tomatoes). I'm throwing all of them away in this bowl to throw away, grabbing handful after handful.. Suddenly I am in a kitchen instead of the car, although I don't notice this, and Devin's cousins are still there as well. Devin's cousin's wife tells me she wants me to save any of the tomatoes that still look okay, because she's really hungry. I give her the bowl and tell her to throw away what she doesn't want to eat. She takes the bowl and I walk off with eating a piece of a tomato and I hear a knock at the door. I go to open it and I see a friend from Australia in the doorway. I still have a bit of tomato in my mouth, so I point to my mouth and say, "Hi! ..Tomato in my mouth." She laughs loud and I follow suit and she hands me a gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1360676847403183721?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1360676847403183721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/tomato-in-my-mouth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1360676847403183721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1360676847403183721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/tomato-in-my-mouth.html' title='Tomato In My Mouth.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5722926826506791288</id><published>2011-01-29T01:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T01:22:37.201-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nightmare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Walt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>This Must Be Hell For Us.</title><content type='html'>Okay, forgive me in advance. I'm really, really messed up in the head.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dreamt I was going through boxes and boxes of movies in this store.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt my sister was going into the military. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was supposed to be in this wedding, but I was in my uncle Walt's bedroom and everyone in the wedding party was getting presents. My uncle Thane gave us all the presents. I ended up getting this chocolate fingernail polish and someone else in the party got this candle that looked like a caramel cake. I was sooo hungry after she opened that present.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, here's where it gets messed up. I was in this old-time coffin (the wooden kind) and I was floating down this really cold water in this tunnel. My aunt and a bunch of others were also floating down in these coffins. At some point we hit an end of this river and instead of shore or grass or what-have-you, it was broken up concrete. We ended up in this huge parking lot that must have blown up or something, because cars were ruined and charred and the concrete was in pieces. We wandered around, looking at the disaster. We didn't know exactly where we were or what happened, but there were a lot of bodies on the ground split open with maggots crawling around inside. It was disgusting. Someone tells us that maybe we were cursed for not having handkerchiefs in our coffins with us, because this is some superstition that is taken seriously in my dream. Then my aunt tells me that she remembered my aunt Heather wanting to be cremated and that she can't even imagine what she's going through. Then she says, "This must be Hell for us." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5722926826506791288?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5722926826506791288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/this-must-be-hell-for-us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5722926826506791288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5722926826506791288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/this-must-be-hell-for-us.html' title='This Must Be Hell For Us.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2496681798971622921</id><published>2011-01-29T01:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T01:08:51.974-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Cheese Sandwich.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was staying in this grungy motel (probably the one I actually did stay in down in St Pete Florida). I was super hungry, so I left the motel room and wandered around looking for food. I saw a group of the most adorable looking black kids, I swear they all looked like little Gary Coleman clones. I asked them if they knew where a gas station was so that I could get some food and although they told me, one of them gives me a cheese sandwich anyways, so I eat it.  Then I notice these two men standing in a kitchen that look like half of The Beatles. I notice that the boys stare at them admiringly, like these guys are their favorite band or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2496681798971622921?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2496681798971622921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheese-sandwich.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2496681798971622921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2496681798971622921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/cheese-sandwich.html' title='Cheese Sandwich.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2708814703080307289</id><published>2011-01-29T00:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T01:03:29.499-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><title type='text'>Bruno's Pelvic Thrusts.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at Cranfest and I noticed Devin was wearing his snowboarding boots. I laughed and told him he could wear those and be Mario on Halloween. Strangely Devin started becoming Mario and we both somehow transported to a store. It was this long hallway filled with things on the walls to buy. We're looking for things to go with his look. Then I start walking off and tell him, quite giddily, that I could be Toad or Princess Daisy. I start skipping off down the hallway and Devin picks me up and I notice this sailor hat that I HAVE to try on, so I yell for him to take me back. He sets me down and I run over to try it on, but this Angelica Houston look-a-like snatches the hat before I get a chance. I grab a different hat to try on so that I don't look like an idiot and I look at myself in a mirror to see how I look. Suddenly Angelica Houston turns into Bruno (the movie about that flamboyant german guy) and I shit you not, he pelvic thrusts me like five feet out of his way so he can look at himself in the mirror. PELVIC thrusts me out of the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2708814703080307289?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2708814703080307289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/brunos-pelvic-thrusts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2708814703080307289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2708814703080307289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/brunos-pelvic-thrusts.html' title='Bruno&apos;s Pelvic Thrusts.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7276046654603324411</id><published>2011-01-29T00:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T00:56:43.000-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='floor'/><title type='text'>The Underground Tunnels</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that I was at my aunt and uncle's house outside, sitting at this picnic table with my ex's family and my dad's family as well. I couldn't find my sister Sarah there, so I asked them if they had seen her and my ex's mom told me that she heard my sister playing drums. (This is strange because in my dream it seemed like there was this curfew or maybe just bad people about, so there were underground tunnels that got us to where we needed to go, and in my dream, his mom told me that she could hear the sound of my sister hitting the drums from the tunnels echoing the sounds into her house.) This seemed perfectly logical, so I sat down satisfied with that answer. Then my aunt Kathi asked the group, "I thought Sarah was a guitar girl?" and one of my uncles said, "She's a drummer girl now. She's an Oppelt. Oppelts can do anything." &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was in this waterpark/maze thing with my boyfriend and we had to go back through the maze to get out of this waterpark, but for some reason the workers that were there were suspicious about us, so they followed us and threatened us. At some point my boyfriend and I separated and I ran into this bedroom. I tried to think of a way to hide myself before a worker came in and found me, so I transformed myself into a Cookie Monster outfit and threw myself onto a hanger and sat myself on the bed. The worker came in and didn't notice me, so he left. I then notice a bath is running in the corner of the bedroom and I turn it off. The bath was overflowing, though, so I mopped it up with a towel a bit to keep from ruining the floor. Then I noticed a cat on the floor that was about to give birth... I know, icky. The momma kitten kept getting smaller and smaller until she was also a kitten.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7276046654603324411?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7276046654603324411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/underground-tunnels.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7276046654603324411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7276046654603324411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/underground-tunnels.html' title='The Underground Tunnels'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6720543692770482722</id><published>2011-01-23T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T19:28:06.827-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Caleb'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Anybody Home?</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in my parents' old house. It was set up differently, though. The kitchen was smaller and inside one of the bedrooms now. I was walking around in the house and nobody was home. I called and called if anyone was there, but nobody answered. Eventually I walked out of the house through the front door and suddenly I turn around and the house has a light on inside. Then I see movement. I open the door and I notice my dad and his brothers inside eating at the dining room table. It felt weird that nobody was there a second ago, but I wasn't thinking I was dreaming or anything. I left the house and walked around towards the driveway. Then my ex-boyfriend Caleb came up to me and told me that my dad was looking for my sister Sarah so she could see the house all refinished. I poked my head around by the backyard near where the steps are to go down to the pond and I saw Sarah sitting on the porch with her back facing me. She was eating food off a paper plate. I told Caleb where she was and he left. Then I noticed my dog in the bathroom window, so I reached up to grab him and started walking towards an old brown car. There was a woman my age in the passenger's side.  It was wintertime now and we were about to leave someone's house, but two other women started knocking on the passenger side's window and asked to get dropped off somewhere. I didn't want to because it was out of the way and I just wanted to go home, but eventually I let them in the car. Then I somehow am sitting in the backseat with the woman I was with and the other two women are in front. The one driving hits it in reverse and guns it, and we start swerving into the road (icy roads, remember) and we hit this beige pole that was on the side of the road, and then we rolled over a few times into the ditch. Of course only in my dreams was there an ambulance driving behind us. The EMTs get out and one of them looks like Lucy Liu. She asks me if I'm alright and I start yelling profanities at the woman that was driving, saying something like, "No thanks to &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;idiot. This &lt;i&gt;blonde&lt;/i&gt;."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6720543692770482722?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6720543692770482722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/anybody-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6720543692770482722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6720543692770482722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/anybody-home.html' title='Anybody Home?'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8975312072373658020</id><published>2011-01-19T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T23:02:57.330-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='murder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><title type='text'>Fishing For Humans.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt a weird one.. First, I was in a half-way point between being in my parents' pond to also being at the playground of my elementary school at the same time. It was weird. Maybe the playground was just really flooded, I don't know, but I remember swimming to "Woody" (what we called our favorite wooden (NON-PLASTIC, OY VEY I REMEMBER THE SPLINTERS NOW) playground equipment) and yelling at my boyfriend (he was in the water with his dad fixing a boat) to help me with something, but his dad wouldn't let him help me, so I got pissed and jumped back in the water and swam to shore. Now I am on my parents' property and I'm walking around the pond (away from my old house) and through the woods. Strangely the woods turns into what looks to be set up like an opera theater. I'm walking through these red velvet seats and I see this balcony. I overhear someone call it a "badminton". I walk up the steps and into the balcony and sit next to this girl (that was my friend in high school, but not anymore, I kind of hate her guts now). She has a blanket wrapped around her and when she sees me, she wraps it around me as well so that we're sharing. She starts feeling me up under the blanket, but I'm not grossed out, I'm just uncomfortable because I keep thinking she's only doing it to get attention from our classmates. I look down at the opera stage and it's not an opera stage but the pond, night-time. I can barely see the pond with all the trees in the way, but there is a spotlight pointed at it. Eventually the friend next to me turns into this guy and we are staring at the pond, curious. Then the opera house disappears and it is just me and this guy and we see a boat come into the view of the spotlight. There is a man in all black and he starts taunting us up above (we are on this cliff now instead of a balcony). He points at us and laughs. Then he grabs another guy in the boat (apparently the guy next to me is his brother) and he grabs these sharp scissors and pokes a hole in his cheek near his mouth and then puts a huge fish hook in the hole. The guy next to me and I are completely terrified, but we keep watching. Then the dark figure throws this guy over the side of the boat. The brother looks over at me and tells me we have to save him. I wake up while we start walking around the pond again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8975312072373658020?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8975312072373658020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/fishing-for-humans.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8975312072373658020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8975312072373658020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/fishing-for-humans.html' title='Fishing For Humans.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7321355290768644654</id><published>2011-01-19T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T22:41:26.652-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mather'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>Random Shit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dreamt a bunch of random shit..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Dreamt I was at a Tegan and Sara concert and that they brought some random dude out to sing with them on a song.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also dreamt my dad had to go to war (I've been watching Band Of Brothers lately).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was at this cranberry marsh and I was sitting on the back of this trailer that was being hauled somewhere, only I fell off. It was hauling this huge, round black plastic contraptions and when I fell I was afraid that they would fall off as well and tumble onto me. (Dreamt this part because the night before I was reading about strange ways people had died and I read that a woman died from a huge billboard falling on her.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also dreamt that I caught my mom with a married man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7321355290768644654?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7321355290768644654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/random-shit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7321355290768644654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7321355290768644654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/random-shit.html' title='Random Shit.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5985785710451766007</id><published>2011-01-15T15:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T15:18:41.405-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ville Valo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Felt Up and Make-up.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that I was waiting in the backseat of a car with two guys. My boyfriend's mom was driving and my boyfriend and his dad were outside trying to cut down a tree or something. His mom got out of the car to tell them to hurry, because we were going to be late for something. When she left the car, the two guys started trying to touch my thighs and feel me up. I was scared, I thought I was going to get raped.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was with Devin somewhere and he made pizza and one of my friends, Nadia, was there for some reason. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before all of this dream, although not linked or associated in any way, I dreamt that Ville Valo of the band HIM was at Sportsman's Bar waiting for a cab. My sister's friend John was going to take a picture of me and Ville, but I didn't have any make-up on, so I asked my sister if she had any make-up I could borrow. We started to walk to the bathroom so I could make myself presentable, but suddenly a crowd of women broke out amongst us and I lost her. The women were all getting suggestions for make-up and borrowing each other's things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5985785710451766007?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5985785710451766007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/felt-up-and-make-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5985785710451766007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5985785710451766007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/felt-up-and-make-up.html' title='Felt Up and Make-up.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2646794235749446863</id><published>2011-01-15T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T15:10:39.288-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Dresses and Band-Tees.</title><content type='html'>I'm in this big shopping mall (although at times we stop at these big tables with food and ribbon laid about) and I'm with my friend and we are shopping for bridesmaid dresses. (I was in her wedding a few years ago with my sister and one of her friends, so they were also in the dream). We all had on these long, fancy, stiff brown dresses with burgundy sashes around our waists (except me, I had a white sash around my dress). The other girl that was a bridesmaid was not happy that I was wearing a white sash, because it sounded more special or something.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt that I was waiting in this long line to shuffle out of a concert (although the setting looked more like a sports arena with bleachers we were walking off of). I was with Devin and some random non-existant cousin of his. The cousin is wearing a Drive-By Truckers shirt and I mention it to Devin and he tells his cousin that I have a really large Drive-By Truckers shirt at home that we got once. (I don't really.) Apparently it was the last shirt they had or something. Then the cousin told us that you can always go back to where the concert was later on and see if they have the shirt in stock, because that happened to him once. (lol, I wish that really happened. I have a HUGE Kaki King sweater I'd like to be a bit smaller..) The line started to move and I decided to take a faster route and jumped down the top part of the bleachers and walked down a hallway and met up with Devin and his cousin again. Then the lines were turning into ten or so smaller lines, so we got in the closest line and saw more of Devin's (this time existent) family in line, so we chatted with them for a bit. I was talking to this little red-headed girl no older than four (she was being carried by her mom or dad) and I overheard my friend and her sister talking to Devin's mom. Her sister said something like, "Yeah, they're almost to their six-year anniversary now, I think." At first I thought they were talking about Devin and I. I tried to ignore it and pretend like I couldn't hear them, I didn't want to hear how long Devin and I have been together for some reason. Eventually I found out that they were talking about how old the little red-headed girl was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2646794235749446863?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2646794235749446863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/dresses-and-band-tees.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2646794235749446863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2646794235749446863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/dresses-and-band-tees.html' title='Dresses and Band-Tees.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6448848269475025248</id><published>2011-01-14T17:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T20:35:31.087-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shelter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='floor'/><title type='text'>Desert Zombies.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at this farm that was located in a desert. There were zombies coming after me and a group of people. We all hid behind things.. trying to keep the zombies from seeing us. I have my dog Moses with me (I'm carrying him) and I walk into this room and then hide in this small cubby hole with a door, but the door is only half of a door, so any zombie would be able to spot me. I watch as a zombie follows me in and walks around. He notices me but he just stops and doesn't do anything. Then a person from the group I was with walks in and kind of shimmies himself around the room, trailing around the walls until he gets to where I am hiding. The zombie sees us both, but I look behind me and see that the cubby hole is like a slide, so I slide down and enter this big room where the rest of the group is hiding. The guy that followed me down told the rest that a zombie spotted us, so we start walking towards this room that is locked. A safe haven. I unintentionally wake up before we open the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6448848269475025248?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6448848269475025248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/desert-zombies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6448848269475025248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6448848269475025248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/desert-zombies.html' title='Desert Zombies.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-585768757656988043</id><published>2011-01-14T17:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T17:16:59.037-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='floor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>Party Party Party.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at my aunt and uncle's and apparently it was someone's birthday. There was all kinds of wrapping paper all over the floor. I was with a bunch of women with short pixie haircuts and  we were all really drunk. They women started filing out of the living room and towards the back bedroom down the hallway and one of them came over and told me that we were going to go out and get trashed at the bars tonight. Before the woman followed them into the bedroom, she gave me a candle and put it in my pocket. I didn't really think anything of it. I decided to pick up the house a little bit before we left. When she came back, she pointed at the candle in my pocket and I took it out and looked at it. At first I thought she had the idea that I stole it from her, but she teased me and said I was too drunk to remember her putting it in my pocket. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was in a completely different place. I was in a bedroom, looking into a dresser drawer, and I saw these kittens poking their heads out. I thought they were adorable.. At first. Then I noticed not all of these kittens were real kittens. Some were rats. I couldn't tell them apart, though. I knew the mice were trying to bite me when I grabbed at them to separate them from the kittens, but the kittens were trying to bite at me, too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-585768757656988043?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/585768757656988043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/party-party-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/585768757656988043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/585768757656988043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/party-party-party.html' title='Party Party Party.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6141861131569333539</id><published>2011-01-12T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T19:05:33.585-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ville Valo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Spreading Talents To Other Planets.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I had sex with someone on the bathroom floor. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was taking a bath, though the astral plane was strange in this dream. I was sometimes in a bathtub and sometimes in my parents' pond. My bird was nearby and at one point he tried to bite me. I freaked out and tried to grab him but he latched onto my finger.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt that a bunch of musicians, one being Ville Valo, went into space to travel other worlds to "spread talent in the universe".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;haha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: normal;font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-SQGJ0rfIEk?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-SQGJ0rfIEk?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1V4AscLidWg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1V4AscLidWg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;"This life ain't worth livin'." - Join Me In Death&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'courier new';"&gt;What floors me is that Tegan and Sara didn't go into space. WAT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:monospace, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6141861131569333539?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6141861131569333539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/spreading-talents-to-other-planets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6141861131569333539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6141861131569333539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/spreading-talents-to-other-planets.html' title='Spreading Talents To Other Planets.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7252087067069146881</id><published>2011-01-12T18:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T18:45:50.870-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Family Matters.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my family was getting dolled up to go to one of Devin's family's parties. We were all in a house getting ready. At one point I notice my aunt Heather has really long wavy hair and my other aunt Erin took a picture of her. She looked really young and almost model-esque. Though definitely more 80s-model than modern-day. Then my aunt Heather started talking about how unfair it is for women who can't have babies.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* Probably dreamt this because I'm constantly wondering whether I can have children or not. At one point, in real life, I remember how difficult it was for my aunt Heather to have children. Eventually she had to go to a fertility clinic. She now has two very adorable boys. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7252087067069146881?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7252087067069146881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/family-matters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7252087067069146881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7252087067069146881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/family-matters.html' title='Family Matters.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-649029405542630405</id><published>2011-01-12T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T18:38:51.022-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='floor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>Leukemia.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt two teenage girls were at a party and one of them sees their crush. She walks over to talk to him, but he introduces her to his girlfriend next to him, so she walks away shyly and pretends to know this guy sitting down wearing a Beatles shirt. She sits on his lap like nothing happened.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt I was me and I was waiting for a bus at night. I was at my friend's old house, though. (In reality, the house is torn down and now there are villas all over the place for a waterpark, but in my dream the house was still there.. no waterpark). This girl that used to be my neighbor was also in my dream, though she was still the same age she was back then and I am the age I am now. She asked me if I was going back to school again (in high school, I was bullied at one point and eventually I quit school (came back eventually to finish), so I guess she knew I had left and in the dream was coming back to school). I told her I was, but I wasn't real excited about it. Finally a bus showed up and we crossed the road to get on, but other kids were piling out and at first I thought "Shit. It's nighttime. We must have missed school," but the bus driver allowed us on. We both sat down next to this girl with leukemia, I assume, since she was bald and had a scarf over her head. I felt tall compared to everyone, a giant. I could barely fit and could feel the ceiling hitting my head constantly. I remember I was chewing gum at the time, too, because I was worried the gum would fall out of my mouth and into the girl's hair. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow I switched to being in my parents' kitchen. There was cake in pieces all over the floor and I was picking the pieces up and putting them into a trash bag. The pieces of cake were sopping wet with milk, though. It felt a lot like touching a wet sponge when I picked the pieces up. I even wrung the cake out to try to keep from getting milk in the bag, but then I noticed a hole in the bag and tried to tie a knot in the bag where the hole was so that nothing would spill out, but things fell out anyway. I went to put the cake pieces back into the bag but they all turned into rice krispies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, that first part I dreamt about (the party).. I dreamt this because I am in the process of reading a book about two friends, one having cancer. In one part of the book they are at a party and one of the girls sees her ex with another girl and she tries to act cool. I'm guessing this is why I dreamt of a leukemia patient in the second part of my dream. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-649029405542630405?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/649029405542630405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/leukemia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/649029405542630405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/649029405542630405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/leukemia.html' title='Leukemia.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2235512244038423719</id><published>2011-01-09T15:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T15:48:24.172-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='robot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='electrocution'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Robots Attack!</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was this married black woman and I was with my husband in this fenced in area that was on my parents' old property. We were trying to run away from this stuffed animal robot that my friend made me, because it was trying to kill us. The fence is an electrical one and the wires are splayed all over in the area we were running around in and it is also raining, so eventually I lay down on the ground next to my husband to keep from getting shocked so much. Suddenly we are in a run-down cabin, but it is still raining and there are still so many electric wires all over the floor. I poke my head up and peer out a window and I see the robot run past outside. Then I see a man heavily suited in some kind of protective wear. He has these big scissors and he starts cutting the wires from the fence outside, the fence that the wires inside the cabin are attached to. When he does that, the shock from the wires disappears. My husband and I hear noises outside. It sounds like a woman running. We rush out of the cabin and I turn into myself and my husband turns into Devin and I am carrying a little girl in my arms, our daughter, supposedly, along with the robot that was trying to kill us. Although this time, the robot is not the one my friend made me, but the one I made my sister for Christmas. Devin and the girl disappear at some point, and I walk up to this burn barrel and I through the robot in the fire and I start to watch it melt.  Suddenly I get this uneasy feeling that my sister won't believe me that the robots are killing people, so I grab the robot from out of the fire and when I look at its once-happy-looking face, it has a very angry, unhappy, melted face. Originally, the robot has a very happy anime face with its eyes closed, but after burning him for awhile, the eyes warped into an angle of anger. It scared me. I thought the robot would start to attack.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...Somehow my dream has a slight distraction.. I am in Warrens and I am at this farm. Devin is trying to sell a pig that we (don't really have in real life obviously but) own in the dream, but the farmer tries to pay for the pig for little of nothing. I talk back to the farmer, angry, telling him that he wants to murder the innocent creature and he's only giving us a couple bucks? That's ridiculous. Devin's dad is leaning out of the car window and he's telling Devin to shut me up and that I don't know anything about buying, selling, meat, or farming, and that I need to respect the guy that is trying to buy our pig. I march over to his dad and I yell at him telling him that he needs to respect my own opinions and beliefs. He refuses to, so I walk off. I start walking down this road and I get a text from my friend Anna and she tells me she is having problems with this guy she likes.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My dream goes back to where it ended in the beginning and I am walking down a long dirt driveway, holding the stuffed animal robot like it's a baby and I start singing the song Bloodletting really slow, hoping to calm the robot down enough so that it won't kill me. For some reason though, I thought that my grandma was a ghost in this dream and that singing to the robot would make me seem crazy to her. I start walking up to my aunt and uncle's trailer and see my uncle outside cleaning the deck. My mom and aunt are coming outside with boxes, apparently moving out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NuxCg_M8vgk?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NuxCg_M8vgk?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2235512244038423719?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2235512244038423719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/robots-attack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2235512244038423719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2235512244038423719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/robots-attack.html' title='Robots Attack!'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-547570771716010988</id><published>2011-01-07T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T19:18:10.114-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tomah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Walt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Walt's In The Hospital.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that my great-uncle Walt was still alive and sick in the hospital. Sarah, Erin, Dad and Mom and I were all walking up to the building to go see him and we met up with my ex, Caleb, and my cousin Garrett waiting in the hallway. Everyone was in a sad mood, similar to when you usually have a gathering in a hospital for a person dying. Some were crying, others were looking at the floor trying not to. I peek out the window before we walk up to the hospital room and I noticed my dog Moses wandering off outside of the car. My aunt tells me she has to leave somewhere right now, so I grabbed my dog and hid him under my coat so that no doctors would be able to see him when I snuck him up with me to visit Walt, but when I got into the hallway, my mom's friend told me that I could just bring Moses in without having to hide him. Then Devin shows up and he tells me his job is giving him less hours, and I realize I have to work soon. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-547570771716010988?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/547570771716010988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/walts-in-hospital.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/547570771716010988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/547570771716010988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/walts-in-hospital.html' title='Walt&apos;s In The Hospital.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3599588711818395617</id><published>2011-01-07T17:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T19:09:09.636-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='murder'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flying'/><title type='text'>Evil Spirit</title><content type='html'>Dreamt there was an evil spirit lurking around, killing people. I was in what looked like a suburb of some city, so I either hailed a cab or had someone drop me off to my aunt's garage. I climbed up this tree and hid in it and stood on a branch, on my tippy toes, and tried to learn how to fly by standing on my tippy toes. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was in this school and I got in trouble in choir class, so I was forced to sing a religious song with a few other girls. We sang it and then my boyfriend's mom's dog Gigi came into the classroom and begged me to get her a treat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3599588711818395617?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3599588711818395617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/evil-spirit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3599588711818395617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3599588711818395617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/evil-spirit.html' title='Evil Spirit'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-272489634959716704</id><published>2011-01-07T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T17:44:51.936-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Into The Woods - Part II</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was walking in the woods and had my dogs with me. I kept telling them to stay home, not to follow. One of them almost mauled a girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-272489634959716704?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/272489634959716704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/into-woods-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/272489634959716704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/272489634959716704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/into-woods-part-ii.html' title='Into The Woods - Part II'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6479899486626446843</id><published>2011-01-07T17:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T17:43:29.471-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='robot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toys'/><title type='text'>My Robot Was Broken.</title><content type='html'>After doggy-sitting my boyfriend's parents' dogs, I dreamt that I found my stuffed animal robot dirty and with his head off. There was a button missing for one of his eyes. I knew which dog did it and I was sad and pissed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6479899486626446843?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6479899486626446843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-robot-was-broken.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6479899486626446843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6479899486626446843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-robot-was-broken.html' title='My Robot Was Broken.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2992646538221953242</id><published>2011-01-07T17:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T17:41:15.426-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>Big Party</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at a huge party with all of Devin's family on his mother's side. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dreamt this because of New Years celebration. We celebrated his aunt and uncle's wedding anniversary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2992646538221953242?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2992646538221953242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/big-party.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2992646538221953242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2992646538221953242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/big-party.html' title='Big Party'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8685423029997493007</id><published>2011-01-07T17:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T17:40:04.207-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tornado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems keeping up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Obama Wants To Be Left Alone.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at my parents' old house, watching the news/weather. The news said that (although it was January) a really big tornado was expected tomorrow.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was in Burnstads (a grocery store in town), and I was paying with chocolate-covered pretzels. The only problem was that while I was shopping for groceries, I was hungry, so I was eating my money. When I got to the register, I found out I only had maybe $3 (three pretzels) and the cashier needed $17 for everything.  I asked him to take back everything except for the milk, butter, and another important. (Obviously the economy must still be in good shape in my dreams.. hmm..) The cashier was a nice guy around my age. The lady behind me, a fatter, older blond lady, was impatient and complained that I shouldn't be shopping with so little money. She almost made me cry though, so after the guy rang up the few things I bought, I  walked up to the manager's area and praised the cashier that rang me up because he was so nice to me. I also told him about the bitch behind me that was really rude, and he points to this couch that magically appeared in the store and tells me that the bitch is the cashier's cousin. I left the store after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I dreamt my friend Dana and I were still in high school. It was really dark in the hallway, and we both saw the President walking in front of us. Dana really wanted his autograph, she started running and following him. She disappeared around the corner in the hallway, so I could only hear voices, but I heard him yell, "Who's behind me? NO! Please, I have a wife and kids! Leave me alone!" When I finally got far enough to seeing the two again, I saw her persist and finally he turned around, looked angry, grabbed her hand real hard and pushed her into the wall. I ran over to her and said, "Dana, come on.." and while we were walking away I was convinced I said her name wrong and that I meant to say the name Donna.  (Around this dream I had watched the film La Bamba. It's the movie about Ritchie Valens, the guy that sang the song "Donna")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8685423029997493007?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8685423029997493007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/obama-wants-to-be-left-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8685423029997493007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8685423029997493007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/obama-wants-to-be-left-alone.html' title='Obama Wants To Be Left Alone.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-480351274240699266</id><published>2011-01-07T16:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T17:09:32.232-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Niki'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>Into The Woods</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that my boyfriend was hanging around someone else, and I was so pissed that I ran off into the woods. I hid up in this tree hoping to god that Devin wouldn't be able to find me. My bird Silly was in the tree, too. The tree I was in was up against a house, right next to a window. I was kind of between the tree and these curtains. My sister's ex-friend found me up in the tree and told me that she needed me to help her unlock something and save this woman (whom happened to be the girl my boyfriend was messing around with from before). I remember being on the floor of a bedroom with all these different pieces of gum on the floor with the wrappers open and the gum poking out. I had to find the right flavor to unlock whatever it was that was keeping this woman prisoner. I remember thinking that the answer had to do with a Tegan and Sara song (to be specific, a Sara one). I ended up sabotaging the whole thing because I didn't want to save the woman. Devin wasn't happy with me because I ruined the whole thing and risked her life. Then I woke up, but only to be in another dream in bed writing down my dream I had just then. I opened my journal and found that it was set up more like a crossword, so I was having difficulties writing down my dream in such little space I had.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* I should say that the reason I dreamt that last bit is because when I first started writing down dreams, I'd find the first paper I had nearby and quickly write down a dream, be it a crossword puzzle. I have so many crossword books that have dreams written all around trailing in circles from outer to inner and some that continue on other pages.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNkBlm44lTQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dNkBlm44lTQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-480351274240699266?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/480351274240699266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/into-woods.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/480351274240699266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/480351274240699266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2011/01/into-woods.html' title='Into The Woods'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5823182097683069886</id><published>2010-12-29T16:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T17:24:07.735-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='waking myself up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vampires'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflection'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shelter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soulmates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nightmare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>The End Of The World.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;What I ate/drank the night before: DiGiorno's Pepperoni Pizza and Constant Comment Decaf Tea. Plus a handful of Quakes Rice Snakes in Ranch flavor and a glass of water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Dreamt I was making out with a black woman. She was a vampire, too. Then the vampire disappears and I am walking down a street with my grandma Milly. We spot my aunt Donna and uncle Larry walking into a dance hall, so we follow. I look around and see that everyone is eating at a billion different tables. There isn't much room, so I walk over to a table with a few empty seats and I sit down. A few seconds later someone tells me that the seats are taken, so I and this little girl that followed me to the table walk around the dance hall to find a different place to eat. We get to the very back of the room and I sit down at this table that this fatter boy and Rhianna is sitting at. The boy asks me a question and I can't quite understand him, so I answer honestly and he laughs rudely (along with Rhianna) and tells me he was being sarcastic. I look over at the little girl (she's about three or four) and roll my eyes. We're stuck sitting with a bunch of assholes. I find out from Rhianna that the dance takes place to find your soulmate. She points to a mirror on the floor and tells me that she sees my soulmate in the reflection and that she'll email the soulmate so that we can find each other. I look at my phone and see an email coming in and it shows a picture of Rhianna and below it (this is supposed to be me for some reason) is a picture of Betty White. (I might have to explain this.. My best friend and I are constantly calling ourselves Rose and Blanche off Golden Girls, because we're goofy and we act like them a lot (me being a bit of an idiot and she being a bit of a slut, ha, so I guess my subconscious picked up on that..)). Rhianna and the fat boy end up leaving and  I spot an old friend, Kayla, walking over to me so I stop to talk to her for a bit. She tells me that her dad is trying to start a business but that he's placing it in the wrong area. (Apparently he's starting this resort/bistro/cell phone fixing company inside of a hospital). I tell her that I remember seeing him walking around town with blueprints the other day. Then Kayla leaves and I look up at the sky (the ceiling is opened in parts to bring in a breeze). I smile at how pretty the sun looks. It's making the sky a bright blue color. There are dark clouds that the sun is beating through, and it casts an eerie yet gorgeous glow. Suddenly the clouds get thicker, though,  gathering into darker and darker colors. Almost black. I hear a loud booming sound --not a crackling like thunder, more like a huge explosion-- Everyone starts screaming. The clouds have a faint red glow like fire making its way through. The song "Who's Gonna Drive You Home?" by The Cars comes on in the dancehall and I get a text message from an old black lady that only says "last song". I cry, thinking the sun exploded and that the world will end. That I won't know who my soulmate is. That I won't be able to breathe or think ever again. I won't be remembered. The little girl that was with me is crouched down by the wall behind me, so I grab her and put my arms around her and have her situated so that she is slightly under the table for shelter. I know we're going to die in a few seconds but I want her to feel safe anyways. I look back up at the sky and the clouds have turned a bright red. I look back down at the little girl and hold her tighter. I feel piercing hot liquid hit my back that feels like drops of lava. I start thinking that we're about to burn up, but then a really cold breeze hits my back and I can feel frost sticking to me. I don't know what's happening, but its very painful. I start shaking myself awake because I can't take the pain anymore. Within a few seconds I wake up to myself swaying my hips from side to side. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow, I had to look up the lyrics to this song. It's crazy how this song could actually make sense in this dream..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LGVFK8VNGss?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LGVFK8VNGss?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5823182097683069886?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5823182097683069886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/end-of-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5823182097683069886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5823182097683069886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/end-of-world.html' title='The End Of The World.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3035811681256242477</id><published>2010-12-29T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T17:21:27.701-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tornado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghost'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crowd'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='airport'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><title type='text'>The Exorcist.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this house that was Cherish's and Monte's (Devin's sister and her fiance). I was going through shelves and organizing things into their correct places. I had the drawers out of their shelves and they were on this bed that was in the living room. Next to the shelves were all these extremely colorful statues and nicknacks. I guess it was early, early morning and I had drank the night before. Also, it seems Devin and I had broken up but I was still friends with Cherish, because she understood why I was drunk. She came out of her bedroom and I asked her if I woke her up and I was sorry if I did. She told me I was loud last night from drinking too much and I apologize and tell her that I can see things. I point to the statues and nicknacks on the bed and tell her I've been seeing three kinds of ghosts. The nicknacks are all shaped and painted to look like the ghosts. I had made these statues and nicknacks the night before, going crazy from all the hauntings. (This is where it gets weird. When I mention to her what the ghosts look like, they kind of appear behind me and when I turn to look, they disappear in a puff of smoke.) I tell her that the first ghosts that started haunting me was of an old woman. (She kind of looked like &lt;a href="http://www.nndb.com/people/712/000131319/anne-ramsey-2-sized.jpg"&gt;Anne Ramsey&lt;/a&gt; of the film Throw Momma From The Train). The next ghost I was haunted by was this creepy old man with dark circles around his eyes. (He reminded me of a character from the film Haunted Honeymoon, but I couldn't find the right guy when I looked up pictures). Then I pointed to this hand-statue and explained that the third thing that haunted me was that whenever I laid down in bed, a bunch of these hands would appear and start pushing me into the bed, attempting to suffocate me. Then the dream switches to the past and I'm rollerskating down this crowded street in bad weather and eventually I spot Devin, so I skate over and we start walking. (I'm not roller skating anymore.) It seems a tornado might blow through and someone tells us to find shelter,  so we go into this broken down and abandoned building. Devin disappears and I am with this person that looks like a mix between AJ Langer (of My-So-Called Life) and Tegan Quin (lol, I know they look nothing alike, but they kept changing into each other throughout the rest of the dream)  and there is also another person with us. This other person is going to try to give me an exorcism to rid the ghosts/demons that are afflicting me. I notice that I'm wearing this short black dress and black knee-high stockings. We get to this bedroom that is blackened from a fire and really grimy (AJ Langer/Tegan is carrying me). The exorcist tells me to lay in this bed to call forth the ghost-hands so that she can expel them from me. I start to lay down, but Tegan/AJ Langer sits down first and pushes me onto her lap so that I'm technically not laying down yet. She doesn't want the ghosts to appear and try to kill me. Meanwhile the exorcist was setting things up and once finished she tells me that we are ready to begin. I freak out and sit up in Tegan/AJ Langer's lap and hug her tight. Then I lower myself down onto the bed and I and AJ Langer/Tegan are both crying hysterically and I start feeling the hands trying to suffocate me by pressing me into the bed. Suddenly everything changes and my dream switches to two women (that look like &lt;a href="http://gallery.newkerala.com/images/wallpapers/Alyson%20Hannigan-213852.jpeg"&gt;Alyson Hannigan&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://actresses.pick2web.com/pics/380653/amberbenson.jpg"&gt;Amber Benson&lt;/a&gt;) having sex. Alyson was wearing exactly what I wore. Then the vision of them gets blurry and further away and it seems to be a movie that is on this television at an airport. I am standing in the airport watching the TV and wondering how on earth this is suitable to show in such a public and child-friendly area like an airport. Then my dream became lucid and I blamed myself, wondering how I could allow a sex scene on television with all kinds of children around in&lt;i&gt; my dream. &lt;/i&gt;I woke a few seconds later.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hand-ghosts were thousands, all pushing me into the bed like this (except that I'm being fully lowered into the bed, there isn't a circular hole or anything that I'm being pushed into, it's more a me-shaped hole. haha, if that makes sense.):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  white-space: pre-wrap; font-family:monospace, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1QmgrX7ZVJw?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1QmgrX7ZVJw?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3035811681256242477?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3035811681256242477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/exorcist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3035811681256242477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3035811681256242477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/exorcist.html' title='The Exorcist.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-291442346499759388</id><published>2010-12-29T14:57:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T15:05:39.667-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><title type='text'>The Mario Dream.</title><content type='html'>This dream was a lot like Mario in a way. I haven't played Mario in ages, so I have no clue why I dreamt this. I'm holding onto this vine that is hanging from the heavens and sliding back down to Earth. There are even coins connected to the vines. (No joke.) I am a guy in this dream, too. When I reach the ground, a woman comes up to me and tells me that she's my mom. I tell her that she can't possibly be my mother, that I already have one. Somehow she gets killed by some evil guy, so I bury her in this shallow, flooded grave. I start climbing back up the vine with coins to reach the heavens (I guess I was killed as well), but I get scared of the heights I am at and I start sliding back down. Suddenly my dream plays-over the beginning of the dream and when the woman comes up to me to tell me she's my mom, I believe her this time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-291442346499759388?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/291442346499759388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/mario-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/291442346499759388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/291442346499759388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/mario-dream.html' title='The Mario Dream.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-445630084461422071</id><published>2010-12-29T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T15:08:00.690-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><title type='text'>The Most Influential Band Ever.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my aunt (she's going back to school) had homework and had to answer who the most influential band was. I thought it was The Beatles, so I looked online to be sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-445630084461422071?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/445630084461422071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/most-influential-band-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/445630084461422071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/445630084461422071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/most-influential-band-ever.html' title='The Most Influential Band Ever.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6418269341541548288</id><published>2010-12-29T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T13:22:47.658-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tomah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crowd'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems keeping up'/><title type='text'>The Cat Guy.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was this bigger black lady and obtained a cat somehow. I wanted to keep the cat, but Devin and his dad both said that they had to drive the cat to Texas. (Maybe it wandered a little too far off from home??) I kept the cat nearby, hoping they'd forget that I had it with me. At some point the cat turned into a guy (with his dad) and I turned into myself. I am on the streets with Frasier, Niles, and Daphne from the television show Frasier, and we are in this crowd of people. The weather looked like it was about to rain, it seemed chilly. I think we might have been doing a walk-for-cure type thing. I remember looking at our feet and noticed that Niles was barefoot, Frasier had on these ballet-flat like shoes with socks on (I'm totally serious.), and I was wearing ballet flats only with no socks on. I didn't check out Daphne's feet, I guess. Anyways, Niles was complaining about not wearing any shoes and that the rocks were hurting his feet, and Frasier snapped back at him about why he didn't put shoes on this morning. It was really strange how they acted so much like their characters on the show. Anyways, the cat that turned into a guy ends up going ahead of us in the crowd and Niles keeps a close eye on him. I'm back to being the bigger black lady again and I can see the future. The dad of this guy tells us that he'll go after him and bring him back, but I know (because I can tell the future) that if the dad goes after him, then we will never find this 'cat-guy' again.. He'll definitely disappear into the crowd forever if the dad follows him, so I went after the guy myself. I brought him back to the group and kept changing little things that would effect the future later on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6418269341541548288?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6418269341541548288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/cat-guy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6418269341541548288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6418269341541548288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/cat-guy.html' title='The Cat Guy.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6650895532938476532</id><published>2010-12-26T19:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T20:04:43.518-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lucid dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>It "Felt" Too Real.</title><content type='html'>Still sick!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dreamt I was in my parents' old house. I could fly/float from one piece of furniture to the next. I landed on the TV (an old console one) and that a pile of movies and christmas cards toppled over, only to have them fall in a perfect pile again on the floor. I found it odd, but didn't think anything of it that I was dreaming, which I normally do in situations like that. Also, I noticed I could control things so well that I thought I couldn't possibly be dreaming because it all &lt;b&gt;felt&lt;/b&gt; too realistic. I'm writing "felt" in bold because for some reason I happened to be Lily Munster in the dream and my husband was John Goodman. We were both musicians going through a divorce. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6650895532938476532?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6650895532938476532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-felt-too-real.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6650895532938476532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6650895532938476532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-felt-too-real.html' title='It &quot;Felt&quot; Too Real.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7708318816229523260</id><published>2010-12-26T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T20:05:11.385-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><title type='text'>The Jail Cell</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm sick..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dreamt I was taking my temperature but that the thermometer would not stay in my mouth long enough. When it finally beeped saying it was finished, I checked it and it was at 99.something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Then I was in this prison visitation/trial. It was more set up like a I was supposed to pick someone out of a lineup, only they were all in on it. The guy on the left started moving his bare feet around (he was sitting in a chair, in handcuffs, and was wearing bright orange clothing). I noticed he was fidgeting with his toenails. Suddenly I see something underneath a nail and I sense it's something that will help him unlock his handcuffs. I tell Tegan Quin, who happens to be beside me, and she tells me to go get help. I rush over to this guy that looks like Tom Waits when he played in Bram Stoker's Dracula. He's a janitor and is cleaning jail cells on the opposite side of this big room we are all in. At first he can't hear me very well because his hearing is bad, but eventually he understands. I go back to where Tegan was but she and the rest of the people I was with are gone. Apparently the bad guy had taken them somewhere. I see the bad guy come at me so I run down this hallway and into this bathroom and try to lock the door but I somehow end up UNlocking it instead, so he walks in and puts me in a jail cell with Crystal Bowersox from American Idol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7708318816229523260?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7708318816229523260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/jail-cell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7708318816229523260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7708318816229523260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/jail-cell.html' title='The Jail Cell'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1634632166369091560</id><published>2010-12-26T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T19:46:33.039-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><title type='text'>The Lazy Fat Trucker In Me.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was standing in my parents' driveway. There was a pinball game spinning around in the air (as if being forced into Earth's gravitational pull). It kept getting closer. More games kept spinning and falling into the road. In my head I'm thinking these games were bought and they were being shipped from a store this way. I walk into the house and I go into the kitchen. There is this cartoon version (I have never in my life ever remember dreaming in cartoons, mind you) of Bruce Springsteen. He was showing off his ass in his jeans. Then he'd follow me around the house singing like Elvis with his hips swaying. At first I thought Bruce was acting too much like my boyfriend's dad, trying to get attention all the time and everything by being goofy, so I ran away and told Bruce to leave me alone. Then my boyfriend's dad does show up and I realize I'm dreaming so I try to switch dreams. I turned myself into a really fat, lazy semi driver to get away and woke up eventually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1634632166369091560?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1634632166369091560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/lazy-fat-trucker-in-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1634632166369091560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1634632166369091560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/lazy-fat-trucker-in-me.html' title='The Lazy Fat Trucker In Me.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1100785322230781628</id><published>2010-12-22T11:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T11:20:02.402-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>Movie Making</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dreamt that Devin made a video but that the audio sync was off at the end and also the credits rolled by too fast. Also, Tegan and Sara were in my dream but they looked younger. They even had their heads shaved and were wearing the poofy vests in my dream. It was odd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1100785322230781628?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1100785322230781628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/movie-making.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1100785322230781628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1100785322230781628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/movie-making.html' title='Movie Making'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6889609451576845887</id><published>2010-12-22T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T11:20:43.133-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='warrens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>Stray Cats</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"&gt;Dreamt I was editing a video that was in black and white. Then I was walking around in the town I grew up in (Warrens) and I ran into an old crush. He ended up giving me a kiss on the cheek and I felt that I was cheating on Devin by him kissing my cheek, so I hid from Devin in Wal-Mart. I was crouching down behind racks ofclothes and everything.. Then somehow I get to "the upstairs" in Wal-Mart (I never saw a Wal-Mart with an upstairs, but ooookay ) and climbed out a window and saw "my husband's" car. Suddenly I'm married? I don't know. I watched the movie My Cousin Vinny that morning, so the car was the burgundy one and the "husband" was a young Joe Pesci. I walked across the roof of Wal-Mart and into another window and ended up in an apartment. It was christmas. There was a tree up, ornaments, presents, stockings, even a fireplace. It felt homey. I looked out the window again and it was pouring outside (rain, not snow) and there were stray cats all over the place trying to get into the house any way they could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6889609451576845887?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6889609451576845887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/stray-cats.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6889609451576845887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6889609451576845887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/stray-cats.html' title='Stray Cats'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8171236529511026030</id><published>2010-12-16T21:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T21:47:23.321-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>Broom Fight</title><content type='html'>I've been sick with the flu since last night, so what I ate before bed (which I woke up every other hour throwing up) were sips of Sierra Mist and water and also a few crackers.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dreamt today in the afternoon that I was fighting some guy in my parents' garage. I had this broom and was using this to defend myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8171236529511026030?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8171236529511026030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/broom-fight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8171236529511026030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8171236529511026030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/broom-fight.html' title='Broom Fight'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7296045633370016581</id><published>2010-12-15T03:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T21:39:36.269-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>The Poor Little Ham.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Before bed, I had hot chocolate and two chocolatey cookies for a midnight snack. Perhaps chocolate induces some form of torture in dreams..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;Dreamt I was in a car with Devin and his family. We were swerving around curves, etc, in farmland areas.  I noticed this small, burgundy shed following us, going across the road and down the hill that was beside the road. At first I thought the shed was on wheels or something, but began to notice a rope tied around it. When the terrain got too rough, I noticed the shed was breaking in places. Then I heard a squeal coming from the shed, though it almost sounded more like a baby screaming. I noticed that the rope that was attached to the shed was coming from this slaughterhouse. I started freaking out. I looked at the shed that was falling apart in places and by now the roof was off. Inside the shed was this huge cooked ham in this roasting pot. (I don't know why this "pig that was squealing" was a cooked ham, but that's what I saw.) Anyways, the shed reached inside the slaughterhouse and I could hear the sound of blades sawing into the poor.. ham. I started bawling in the car and Devin's sister tried to cheer me up and pat me on the back. Woke up to hearing Devin watching some movie where a woman was screaming maniacally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7296045633370016581?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7296045633370016581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/poor-little-ham.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7296045633370016581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7296045633370016581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/poor-little-ham.html' title='The Poor Little Ham.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5887802496848727311</id><published>2010-12-14T00:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T02:01:49.086-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>Waiting For Something.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in my parents' old kitchen and I was playing a game of darts with Tegan &amp; Sara's guitarist Ted Gowans. After that, he left and I took a shower and some guy that was also there when I was shooting darts was peeking in at me from the kitchen, which for some weird reason I really didn't mind at all. Some time after this, I appeared on this huge platform that kept circling around on this lake. I was with a billion different people, and we seemed to be waiting for something to happen. It was dark out, but I believe it was daytime because at one point the sky itself was a bright light blue with these dark clouds dispersing. The lake itself was still dark along with the atmosphere, but only above us, high up into the heavens, was it bright. It felt eerie. At that point I thought we were all going to die. Like a meteorite was headed for us or something. Also, since the platform we were all on was circling around in the water, I thought that the lake was starting to make an eddy. Then I dreamt I was back in high school, only it felt more like elementary school or something. I was with a bunch of adults my age at these desks. Everyone had to do this math problem that was on this flash card and at first I was rockin' it, thinking I knew exactly what I needed to do, but then I forgot the initial problem and some woman beside me had the flash card and was studying it for the longest time. I didn't want to lean in and look and have the teacher yell at me thinking I was cheating, but I knew I'd get the answer wrong if I didn't know the problem. Then I couldn't see my paper, so I used my phone as a light but my aunt Donna (she must have been the teacher or something) turned a bright light on in the room and yelled at me for using my phone. Then I went to a secondhand store and my aunt Erin and I started looking at these packages of shorts and boxing gloves you could get in a set. One had the band The Kinks on it. I was contemplating on that one for some reason, but then I saw these adorable blue shoes with yellow anchors all over them. They were ballet flats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5887802496848727311?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5887802496848727311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/waiting-for-something.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5887802496848727311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5887802496848727311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/waiting-for-something.html' title='Waiting For Something.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6737120254876109093</id><published>2010-12-11T23:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T05:15:03.816-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Joran'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>Gay Ending.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in college, corresponding through the internet. I'm working on math. Very confusing and impossible fractions, to be exact. My mom and sister and some random old lady are trying to help me with my homework, but at some point the old lady distracts me by noticing a pearl bracelet I'm wearing. I explain something about it, and then I get back to my homework and have to click on this link to talk to a small group of other classmates online and the link wouldn't show, it was broken. Then my mom gives me this graphic novel and tells me excitedly about it. It's this woman that looks only slightly like her. She's a detective and going through a divorce. (In real life, my mom has always wanted to be a detective thanks to shows like Matlock, Murder She Wrote, Perry Mason, Law &amp;amp; Order, etc.. She's also divorced.) So I look through the book, I remember lots of reds, yellows and blues in the book. Also, at some point the woman grabs a bunch of produce from a supermarket and starts chucking the fruit at her ex-husband's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This next part I cannot for the life of me make out. It's a bunch of scribbles on my journal. Here's the closest I can come up with:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took photo camera sound T&amp;amp;S boyman &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;??? &lt;- Boyman? Batman? Boothawn? Boy's hawn? I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'm walking up the pond road where my family used to live and the ground is covered in snow. I notice my mom's legs sticking out of a plastic container-tub behind an electric fence. I go over and realize the electric fence isn't on, so I climb through and pull my mom out and she's drunk off her ass. Apparently she fell into it and didn't realize. So I walk her up the hill/road while she staggers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'm in a Walmart parking lot, looking into the back of a truck. Some guy is sitting in it and he has three stuffed animals that I had owned when I was little. One of them was "Frankie", my monster of frankenstein doll I cherished as a kid. I pointed him out and told the guy I wanted the doll back. He grabbed it but the doll was tangled up in the thread of the two other dolls. I climbed into the truck to help untangle him and the truck started moving and eventually parked in the driveway of the house I grew up in. The dream turned slightly sexual for a few minutes. The guy I was with kept brushing his hands near my thighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I'm in this city hall and there are tables all over the place, booklets with the word "Homophobia" and pictures of rainbows splashed on the covers. A person with the booklet tells me I missed the meeting. We were supposed to talk about the negative effects of homophobia. I talk to the person for a few seconds about it, and then I walk out of the building. I start walking down the street and I have my dog Moses with me. (He's a tiny little guy, half-Papillon, half-Chihuahua). I see my brother Joran in the doorway of an arcade room and he smiles at Moses and hugs me and says he misses us (the family. He lives in Florida.) Then he asks me where Sarah (sister) and Mom live, and I tell him they live in town above Sportsman's Bar and he looks half in anger, half in disappointment and says "I wonder why they never visit me, then." We both walk into the arcade room and Joran starts playing one of the games. My uncle Thane is standing next to him also playing a game. Joran wins a game and starts typing his name in but for some reason I saw, "Wecarealot" Which is a Faith No More song. Which is a band Joran loves. I point at the high scores and say, "That looks like "We Care A Lot" and Joran laughs and starts singing the song and some girl turns around behind us and puts her arm around Joran and sings along as well (and at some point they sing the words "gays and lesbos" in the song.. I remember that.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6737120254876109093?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6737120254876109093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/gay-ending.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6737120254876109093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6737120254876109093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/gay-ending.html' title='Gay Ending.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4705573327433335823</id><published>2010-12-10T23:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T23:33:50.637-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='problems keeping up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='age'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>The Evil Couple.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was pregnant and in the closet at my parent's old house. I was putting clothes on and Devin kind of pushes me or something, and I say that it's unsafe for the baby. Then, during the day, Devin and I are walking from the old house to my Grandma's old house (just down the driveway). Mine and Devin's outside dogs got out of the fence and wandered off somewhere and I also couldn't find my dog Moses. I thought he was mad at me because I was pregnant and he wanted to stay being my 'baby'. When I get to my Grandma's, I notice two cars in their driveway. A red truck and a black hatchback. I elbow Devin, confused. An old couple get out of the truck and they walk up to us. The guy introduces himself and asks us if we've ever met Doug (my dad). Apparently my dad is throwing a party at the house (and also, apparently he and his girlfriend are living at my grandma's now). I say yes, I have met Doug (I don't mention he's my dad, though). By now, the old couple got younger. Maybe in their mid-to-late-fifties. About my dad's age. The guy gets a weird look on his face and says, "He's okay. But I heard he was gay." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fuming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I snap back that even if he was, it wouldn't make him any different than if he wasn't. The guy gets angry with me for responding this way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nighttime now and I am walking with my sister Sarah, who's behind me with her hands on my shoulders, my mom, with her hands on my sister's shoulders, and my dad's girlfriend, with her hand's on my mom's shoulders. (FYI, this would never happen. My mom and my dad's girlfriend have never met and never intend to.) We're scared of the dark and walking back to the old house because it's the only house with electricity on. (In real life, both houses are abandoned now.) I get to the front door and reach for the light switch just inside. I turn around and Mom and Joanna are gone. Sarah and I walk back around the house towards the driveway and see people crouching behind a car. I notice the older couple has both Mom and Joanna on the ground and they are trying to kill them. The woman has Mom and she's mutilating her fingers. The guy has Joanna and he's just forcing her into the ground at the moment. My sister and I are full of dread and can barely move. She has scissors on her and I grab them from her and first I try slicing across this guy's back to make him stop, but he won't. So then I start stabbing him and I start yelling for my dad as loud as I can, but realize that my dad is half-deaf, and unable to hear me no matter how loud I was. Then I worry this evil couple has killed my dad and now they're killing his girlfriend and my mom. The couple kind of has my mom and Joanna underneath the car, this is why we can barely reach anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4705573327433335823?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4705573327433335823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/evil-couple.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4705573327433335823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4705573327433335823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/evil-couple.html' title='The Evil Couple.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2628746026224823317</id><published>2010-12-10T22:54:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T23:14:35.601-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belongings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>A Weirdass Dream.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at this campsite. I had a bad case of the runs... I go to the bathroom and when I feel a little better, I exit the bathroom and I'm in this basement with my sister Sarah. We're kind of half-packing to leave, but also planning to stay there that night. She's being her usual irritating bitch-self, so I have to suffer through that as well. I wanted to go to bed, but she wanted to watch Golden Girls. I changed the channel to Dead Zone and she yelled "PUT GOLDEN GIRLS BACK ON!" Then I grabbed pillows to try to get her to realize I was tired and wanted sleep. I also told her that I get to sleep in the bigger couch because I'm taller (barely, but still). Then she tells me that she sleeps with 12 pillows, so I only get one pillow and I give her the rest to make up for it. (Strangely, in real life I have a pillow case that holds two pillows. In my dream, I acknowledged this and took note.) Then, on a sunny afternoon, lol, Devin and I are walking up to these bathrooms at the campground and as soon as I get into it, I sit down and go potty again (the runs, I tell ya).  Somehow our astral plane meshes with another and I'm sitting on the toilet in this campground bathroom but also sitting on a bus at the same time. (Devin was in the stall next to me and is sitting beside me on bus). These two guys turn their heads and start talking to us. They tell us that we all played poker once and that even though I didn't know how to play I beat them in one hand. All the while, I'm thinking in my head, "Oh my god, can they see me with my pants down??" I wasn't sure if I was also going to the bathroom on the bus. LOL.. Yikes. Anyways, then this guy that was the son of my old boss gets on the bus with something wrapped in a blanket. He and his "wife" supposedly had a baby real recently. When he brings the baby over for Devin and I to see, he shows us this teeny tiny kitten. That's when, in my head, I think "Oh yeah, his wife is that human cat." Apparently the kitten was a premie, ha ha. God this is a weirdass dream. Anyways, he tells us that he's hoping that when the kitten gets older it might learn to talk. Devin and I both hold the "baby's" paw and he tells us he appreciates that we are even accepting the poor thing, because everyone else he knows thinks it's the product of bestiality. (In the dream I imagined the mom was a woman, just with cat-like features.) I felt bad, because I would have held the kittens hand more, but I was afraid that because it was a newborn it was too fragile, so I was kind of pissed that Devin acted so nurturing compared to me. I kind of glared at him a few times while we coo'd at the baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2628746026224823317?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2628746026224823317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/weirdass-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2628746026224823317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2628746026224823317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/weirdass-dream.html' title='A Weirdass Dream.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7025068292278358080</id><published>2010-12-10T22:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T03:50:45.509-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belongings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Two Bratty Sisters.</title><content type='html'>I'm in my grandpa's house, in his kitchen, and there are a bunch of garage sale items out. Two little bratty sisters are hogging this bag of stuffed animals I want to go through (because there is an adorable blue elephant wearing a navy suit that I badly want, but the asshole parents are thinking about buying the whole bag of items), so I walk past them and look around for something else. Then I see this weird contraption that acts like a swing. It has this foot-pajama fabric attached to it with The Beatles all over it. It plays Beatles songs. It seats two kids. I like it. Devin's mom asks me if it's possible I could take apart the fabric and make it a sweater or something. I tell her it's possible. Then I turn around and those bratty sisters are in my damn Beatles swing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7025068292278358080?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7025068292278358080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/two-bratty-sisters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7025068292278358080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7025068292278358080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/two-bratty-sisters.html' title='Two Bratty Sisters.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-597016975557365576</id><published>2010-12-10T22:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T22:48:08.351-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Ham &amp; Cheese Sandwich.</title><content type='html'>I'm in the dining room of my parents' friends' old house (now demolished). I'm with Devin and we're on my laptop and talking about food. We're hungry. My aunt is about to pick me up to help her with her homework, so I call her quickly and tell her that Devin and I are going to eat a ham and cheese sandwich real quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate deli meat in real life. I can't stomach it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-597016975557365576?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/597016975557365576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ham-cheese-sandwich.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/597016975557365576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/597016975557365576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ham-cheese-sandwich.html' title='Ham &amp; Cheese Sandwich.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-9021185647427163088</id><published>2010-12-10T22:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T22:46:02.643-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Mouse In My House.</title><content type='html'>* I need to explain why I dreamt this and why it scares me. I found out we have shrews in our basement, and this wouldn't have scared me if Devin hadn't told me that the shrews will eat the mice that die in the mouse traps we have down there. Also, about a week before I found out about said shrews, I was grabbing my phone charger that fell behind my bed and swear something small lashed out at me. Shrew or mouse, I don't care. They're both on my shit list now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreamt I was at my parent's old house in the bedroom I stayed in. I was grabbing clothes and I see this mouse (scared at the sight of my ugly mug, perhaps) and he flies from the dresser to the wall and then shimmies himself around to the door and out into the living room. I run out to the living room (with caution in case the mouse is in the room still) and see the musicians Tegan and Sara Quin. After calming myself down a bit, I tell them what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL, I love this short film.. Zack Kahn is incredibly brilliant. You should check out his parodies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="background:#000000;width:440px;height:272px"&gt;&lt;embed flashVars="playerVars=showStats=yes|autoPlay=no|videoTitle=Mouse In My House" src="http://www.metacafe.com/fplayer/504446/mouse_in_my_house.swf" width="440" height="272" wmode="transparent" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" name="Metacafe_504446" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/504446/mouse_in_my_house/"&gt;Mouse In My House&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/"&gt;Click here for more home videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-9021185647427163088?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/9021185647427163088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/mouse-in-my-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/9021185647427163088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/9021185647427163088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/mouse-in-my-house.html' title='Mouse In My House.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-220660203616373339</id><published>2010-12-10T22:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T02:08:13.294-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Caleb'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='picture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>I Could Never Be Your Woman</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at my grandfather's house and that I was engaged to be married to my ex-boyfriend. In the dream, I broke it off with him because I wanted to be with a woman instead and he hated me a LOT after that. While he's with his friends talking things over, I'm in a bedroom trying on a bunch of Tegan and Sara shirts I must have recently purchased. They are really poor quality shirts, though. One had the graphics cut off from another shirt and sewn crooked onto a beige shirt with this cropped purple coat over the top. Then my sister's dog is bleeding and he bumps into me and I go to clean my black leggings (that I wore to bed that night) and the water I sprayed on turned them grey in spots, making me realize it was bleach I was using. At first I was pissed but then I kept spraying them until they looked all kinds of different greys.  I walk out of the bedroom and I'm at my old house in the kitchen with my friend Dana and a bunch of others. She kisses some skater-looking kid on the cheek and he smiles. Then I'm in this classroom and I'm taking a test and this guy in front of me is an ass and keeps bullying me. During the test, my necklace broke and I was trying to pick up what pieces I could find. After that, I'm outside at night and decide I need to take pictures of the moon because the last time they didn't turn out. I try changing the setting on my camera to a night setting, but when I look up at the sky, I notice that it is cloudy as fuck and there's no way I'll be able to see anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-220660203616373339?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/220660203616373339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-could-never-be-your-woman.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/220660203616373339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/220660203616373339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-could-never-be-your-woman.html' title='I Could Never Be Your Woman'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6357181709405563798</id><published>2010-12-10T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T20:56:41.880-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>How Does It Feel?</title><content type='html'>Dreamt that whenever I go to bed, I go to this realm. (I know, I know. That makes no sense. Well, maybe you think it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;does&lt;/span&gt; make sense and you're thinking, "Obvious Alyssa is very obvious." But I mean I actually fell into this realm after falling asleep in another dream. It was kind of like Sliders, only the wormhole appears when I go to bed and start dreaming.) Anyways, enough explaining. I dreamt I was in this gay bar with this guy that looked like a mix between Ben Affleck and Stephen Trask (of Hedwig &amp; The Angry Inch).. More or less, he looked like the lead singer of Semi-Precious Weapons with a black modernized mushroom haircut. He and I and 11 other people were competing in this band competition. We chose the song Blue Monday by Orgy. Strangely all the other groups chose a bunch of Christian-sounding songs. After the song was over, I walked to this window seat and the guy and I started making out. I started thinking in my head "Oh god, if we have sex, I'll wake up pregnant and have to explain everything to Devin.." I was so happy the guy I was with was gay, it made me feel like I shouldn't be guilty about not really being attracted to him either. It must have been the non-existant liquor. After that I was outside of the gas station in Warrens and was talking to two old highschool classmates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3e_nJRzCpBE?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3e_nJRzCpBE?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6357181709405563798?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6357181709405563798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/how-does-it-feel.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6357181709405563798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6357181709405563798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/how-does-it-feel.html' title='How Does It Feel?'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3202478755635282031</id><published>2010-12-09T02:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T22:08:48.971-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><title type='text'>Sneaky Dog Fight.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my dogs Bear and Ziggy were fighting. I grabbed one dog and put him in the house, but a few minutes later the other dog got in and started fighting with him again. I put one of them back outside and again, the dog outside got in and started fighting again. I kept taking them outside and they'd find ways to get back in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3202478755635282031?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3202478755635282031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/sneaky-dog-fight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3202478755635282031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3202478755635282031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/sneaky-dog-fight.html' title='Sneaky Dog Fight.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8516982829513717425</id><published>2010-12-09T02:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T02:15:23.022-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='robot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Musical Robot.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was making a present for my friend Dana. I wasn't sure if I should make her a stuffed animal robot with headphones on, or a robot with some other personality quirk. I also remember the CD I made her played a big part in this dream, maybe I was listening to it in the dream or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8516982829513717425?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8516982829513717425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/musical-robot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8516982829513717425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8516982829513717425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/musical-robot.html' title='Musical Robot.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8876709781251913043</id><published>2010-12-09T01:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T03:52:57.126-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lucid dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><title type='text'>The Ocean.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in California. I am on this interstate on-ramp and I'm getting off of it (on foot) and running down this hill to the interstate itself. There are people running to the interstate with me. It's a frenzy just to get to the there. Apparently the ocean is rising tremendously because of melted polar ice caps.  When I reach the interstate, I get to this red car that at first drives off without me, but it turns back to pick me up. Once I get to the car I notice the driver is a man and a woman is in the backseat. We drive for awhile but at some point they turn into two women.  One was driving (this one kind of looked like Sara Quin's ex-girlfriend Emy) and the other girl was kind of on top of me, facing me. I'm heavily making out with this girl. She's super hot and she even has the Tegan &amp;amp; Sara "mullet" of '07-'08. We cuddle for warmth and we were scared shitless that the water would reach us and we'd drown. I put my hand down the woman's pants and accidentally scratch her. She winces and I apologize a lot and tell her "I'm sorry, I was trying to pet.." and she smiles at this and I finish my sentence with, "..my pet." We kept making out and this Emy driver kind of kept driving/watching us. Unfortunately, the two women turn into the couple from before and all the carefree feelings I had with the lesbian couple went to worrisomeness when I remembered that the ocean is rising. We're driving from California to  the middle states as fast as we can. I watch as we pass cars in super speed. The road is even blurry with how fast we are driving. I think in my head that if the water reaches us, I have to wake myself up. While I put my safety belt on, I joke to the driver that it would suck if this interstate went north and not east. He laughs and then makes this seriously horrified look on his face. The only word he could pipe out of his mouth was, "Shit." I look out the window and I notice this ten-feet high water flowing from this field that was down this hill we were driving past. The water was close. I open my door and watch as the water gets nearer. When I look back at him the water is already underneath us. First I think I need to jump out of the car at a certain time like the characters in Titanic did. The driver stays in the car, motionless. Wide-eyed. I stay with him. I reach over towards him and I kiss his forehead and say, "Sorry.. I have to go." I start blinking my eyes and eventually wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_aU2NhzRe7U?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_aU2NhzRe7U?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8876709781251913043?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8876709781251913043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ocean.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8876709781251913043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8876709781251913043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ocean.html' title='The Ocean.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2244580044367904787</id><published>2010-12-09T01:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T02:12:43.356-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stairs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><title type='text'>Possession.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was walking up to this abandoned, broken down house. It was a white house with the paint peeling off in places. I was instructed by this man that looked like my late great-uncle Walt to kill this evil little girl (that looks like Tina Majorina when she was in Corrina Corrina) that was haunting this home. To explain: I'm not in reality (in the dream, that is), I am in this other "dream realm", perhaps in the mind of this child. Maybe I took this task and I am inside the girl's subconscious and trying to help her or something that needs to get rid of this evil being. The girl had telekinesis and she was a hellion. When I started in the dream realm, I started at the corner of the street. Next to me were these two dollhouses. One looked just like the house I would enter, the other looked newer but torn up as well. I slowly walked up to the house, I knew evil lurked inside. I climbed slowly into the house through a window and she appeared at once as half-smoke, half-human. I fought with her for awhile and finally she blew up into ashes. I put her ashes into a bag and was told by this man (that was coercing me subconsciously) to go upstairs and look for money. I crept slowly up the stairs, still worried that her spirit lingered in the house. I found wads of $5s, $10s and $20s and I put them in my pocket. Then I keep walking and I notice her bedroom door is open. I don't go in, but I throw her ashes into the bedroom and I start to walk away but I notice in the corner of my eye that the ashes turned back to smoke. The smoke lingers down the bed and underneath. I get scared and start running down the stairs. I get to the window I crawled in from and I start crawling back out. When I get all the way out, she slams her half-smoke/half-human body into the window and it shocks me to the core, so I fall. This would have been fine if the dream realm hadn't transformed where we were at. Suddenly the house was in the air and I fall onto this branch in a tree. All the while as she slammed into the window and I fell onto the branch, I turn into the little girl (physically, not mentally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BMkqbY0oGKQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BMkqbY0oGKQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2244580044367904787?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2244580044367904787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/possession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2244580044367904787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2244580044367904787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/possession.html' title='Possession.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8377367508463350337</id><published>2010-12-09T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T02:13:17.416-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Joran'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Chicken Pox.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was camping. My mom is there along with the musician Tegan Quin. We all hear sirens off in the distance and think my dad got into a car accident or something. Mom thinks Dad started drinking again. Then a cop comes to the camper (we're inside the camper this whole time) and tells us that it's my brother Joran that got into the accident. We all start crying and I grab my phone out to call my sister, Sarah. I keep having to re-type in the numbers because I can't seem to get the whole number right. I keep hitting the wrong button towards the end. Finally it starts ringing and instead of getting my sister I get my brother's voicemail. After I tell everyone what the phone did (I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;know&lt;/span&gt; I called my sister's phone, but it magically called Joran's instead) Tegan says, "The technology of today is amazing for knowing to call Joran instead of Sarah.".....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slight distraction. Everyone disappears and I have this red wig on. I look like Daphne from Scooby Doo. I'm still in the camper, and I look in a mirror and notice these red dots and circles all over my face. Soon enough, there are nurses at my side (dressed in starched white, almost what you'd wear for Tae Kwon Do classes except for the belts) and they grab me by the wrists and tell me I have chicken pox. I get wheeled through this strange astral plane that is blended from the campground and a hospital hallway. I'm weary, tired, so I tell them I need to see Tegan. I hear in this overhead speaker through the hospital hallway a nurse calling her name. Tegan is a doctor in my dream, I guess. This part is strange, because I'm still in this hospital bed the nurses are pushing, and yet I can see Tegan working on some patient in surgery far off in this &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;other&lt;/span&gt; astral plane. I'm in this bright, white realm; She's in this orange-lit room. Also, at this point I was passing a lake (and yet still in the hospital) and she was on this island (and yet working on the patient). Finally I get to a room and they give me a gown to put on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..... I'm back at the campground, outside, and this time my mom and dad are only there. We also have our dog Skippy that I had when I was little (deceased now), and my sister's dog (Romeo) and my dog (Bear) with us. I watch as these little people get into a boat from the dock and drive off. I tell my dad about what happened to Joran, and he says, "Nooo.. Jo &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Jordan&lt;/span&gt; is sick!" I look confused for a second because my dad looks sure of himself. Then I tell him that I heard the cop say the name Joran, not Jo Jordan. My dad finally gets worried and we decide to pack up and drive to where Joran is so we can visit him. We get everything in a van and are about to leave when the dogs run off. I try to run after them, but I can't see them anywhere. I know they are trying to follow where the little people went, though, so I look in the lake and see them swimming in that direction. Mom, Dad and I all try to catch them because I'm worried Bear will get hit by a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** Chicken Pox: I know I dreamt about this because of one of the latest Tegan &amp; Sara blogs that Sara wrote.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8377367508463350337?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8377367508463350337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/chicken-pox.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8377367508463350337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8377367508463350337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/chicken-pox.html' title='Chicken Pox.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8100541777396776067</id><published>2010-12-09T00:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T00:48:49.165-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belongings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='minnesota'/><title type='text'>Go, Greyhound. Go.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this computer room or maybe just a bedroom with a computer in it. There were collages on the walls. A woman is also in the room and she digs me. She disappears and an Indian woman appears in her place. We're in love for some reason and she tells me she has to go. This is where the republicans come into play. They are trying to kidnap her (because we're both women, dating). I give her a hug and hate myself to see her have to leave. I lean in to kiss her cheek but instead I whisper to her that I'll meet her somewhere. Maybe the republicans were listening in? I don't know. She disappears and I get on computer. But then Sara Quin appears in the room and she wants to take a picture with me. As the camera lens gets nearer, I notice how filthy it is, so I try to clean it off as best as I could. Then everything disappears and I'm living in the house I grew up in. I'm with Devin and we're waiting for my dad to pick us up to take us to Minnesota. He doesn't show up at the right time, so I call my mom and ask her where he is. Then I start packing and put my stuffed animal Robot and Macbook in a backpack and wait some more. Then I'm outside and I notice this huge greyhound parked outside. Instead of letting us on, Dad gets off and the greyhound leaves. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8100541777396776067?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8100541777396776067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/go-greyhound-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8100541777396776067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8100541777396776067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/go-greyhound-go.html' title='Go, Greyhound. Go.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2606322810886648319</id><published>2010-12-07T02:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T03:02:52.047-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Heavy Mist.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was pregnant. I was at my childhood home, looking out the screen door and watching the heavy mist. It wasn't raining, it was just very misty in the air. I am waiting for Devin to get home because I had found out that day I was pregnant. When Devin finally shows up, I tell him the weather is perfect, but not that I'm pregnant. Then I get online and Katie tells me she has presents to send me, and Devin has a few presents for me as well. Devin and I leave the house and get into the car but while we're heading out of the driveway, he hits a tree. I get out and try to maneuver the car away from the tree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2606322810886648319?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2606322810886648319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/heavy-mist.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2606322810886648319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2606322810886648319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/heavy-mist.html' title='Heavy Mist.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4985701916589283788</id><published>2010-12-07T02:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:57:10.542-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Hey, It Was A Good Idea At The Time.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt the brakes in mine and Devin's car quit working. Also that I was in a baseball field and almost got hit by a ball but used my toddler-cousin as a shield. Let's just say my aunt wasn't happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4985701916589283788?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4985701916589283788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/hey-it-was-good-idea-at-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4985701916589283788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4985701916589283788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/hey-it-was-good-idea-at-time.html' title='Hey, It Was A Good Idea At The Time.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4608935042063223442</id><published>2010-12-07T02:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:55:22.236-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='minnesota'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>Northshore and Tomatoes, Tomatoes.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was listening to Tegan and Sara's 'Sainthood' record, and was playing Northshore. The song sounded fuzzy and wrong, and realized a few seconds later that one of the speakers wasn't completely in. I fix it and begin playing it again. Then my aunt comes in and complains her shoulder hurts, I ask if she got it from work, and she says it's from putting sheets and blankets in her guest bedrooms at her house. Then I went to this family reunion of my dad's and my mom was strangely there (my mom and dad are divorced). My aunt Cindi assumed I was getting married and asked me if the last name "R______ - Oppelt" sounded nice. (I didn't get the 'R__' last name, she said it too fast for me to comprehend..) I said. "I prefer just Oppelt", which in my weird way of responding meant "I am not getting married." My mom looked at us awkwardly and she said "Like they say, tomatoes, tomatoes.. (lol, this is hard to write this out but read that with one of the tomatoes with a hard 'a', the other a soft 'a'" My aunt didn't get my mom's weird banter, and my aunt said something kind of similar to that, and my mom said "That's pretty much what I meant. We just say it differently from where I come from."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J0GAffUCElI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J0GAffUCElI?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4608935042063223442?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4608935042063223442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/northshore-and-tomatoes-tomatoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4608935042063223442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4608935042063223442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/northshore-and-tomatoes-tomatoes.html' title='Northshore and Tomatoes, Tomatoes.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8237203362947808660</id><published>2010-12-07T02:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:42:11.987-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>On My Own.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in a car with my sister Sarah and aunt Erin. We were listening to Tegan and Sara (actually, we were listening to this on CASSETTE, fyi.). At some point I randomly mention how horrendous Katie Holmes' version of On My Own was (she sang this on Dawson's Creek).  They badly want to hear it, because.. well, we have no life and they wanted to have a laugh. For some reason, I have the song but we keep playing the wrong one. Erin takes out another cassette from her glove box and I look at it and for some reason I see "Are You Ten Years Ago" and I think this is the song that Katie Holmes sings bad on. (Eep. In reality, I really do like this song.) Then the song "A Teenager In Love" by Dion &amp; The Belmonts plays and it starts skipping. I wake up to the song actually skipping in my CD player.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qEcwDDBsz50?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qEcwDDBsz50?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8237203362947808660?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8237203362947808660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/on-my-own.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8237203362947808660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8237203362947808660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/on-my-own.html' title='On My Own.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7478929170260694832</id><published>2010-12-07T02:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:30:51.479-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>Ew. Just, ew.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was on this mattress that was on the floor with some guy and Devin near us in bed sleeping. The guy and I started fooling around.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7478929170260694832?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7478929170260694832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ew-just-ew.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7478929170260694832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7478929170260694832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/ew-just-ew.html' title='Ew. Just, ew.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2608474311056123021</id><published>2010-12-07T02:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:29:00.096-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><title type='text'>The Thread.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt my right ring finger got stuck around this thread. The thread cut into me real tight, and I freaked out. I yelled for Devin and he came over and was too scared to cut it, because he knew he'd have to cut me, too. Although I was already bleeding because I had tried cutting the thread off myself before I yelled for him, so this angered me that he wouldn't cut the damn thing off my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This must be another 'commitment issue'-type dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is also the second time I've had in a month where I dreamt of string catching around a ring finger and cutting the circulation harshly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2608474311056123021?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2608474311056123021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/thread.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2608474311056123021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2608474311056123021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/thread.html' title='The Thread.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4171431690304730454</id><published>2010-12-07T02:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T02:18:20.332-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='erin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Niki'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Caleb'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Torture Show</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was getting ready to go to this restaurant that had a very strange entertainment experience for the customers. My mom and sister were coming with me, and my sister was explaining to me what the restaurant does. While I was putting makeup on in the bathroom, she explained that while we eat, the waiters would have this competitive game of torture. We would have to endure as much as possible to gain some sort of reward every time we achieved one of the tortures. The example my sister gave me was that they might hit our hands with hammers and if we'd consent to it, we'd continue on to the next round. I walked out of the bathroom and into the dining room and there were a bunch of people. Not just in the dining room but in the living room and kitchen as well. My dad came home and, although he was still supposedly dating his girlfriend of now, he was still really civil towards my mom. I guess his girlfriend worked at a soda factory in my dream, because he brought home a few cases. I started telling everyone in the house about where we were going, and explained the rules and used the hammer-example my sister used, and they thought it was a dumb idea. (Duh.) The restaurant was in La Crosse, WI, and I remember telling everyone that it'd be broadcast on TV, so they should watch for us. I went outside to get into the van and realized I forgot music, so I went back inside to grab a Tegan &amp; Sara CD, but an asian dude I don't really know in real life stopped me in the living room and asked me what channel we'd be on. He was flipping through channels on my real-life childhood clunky console television set we had. I told him I wasn't sure about which channel we would be on, but that I'd call him when I got to the van and asked mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4171431690304730454?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4171431690304730454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/torture-show.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4171431690304730454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4171431690304730454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/torture-show.html' title='Torture Show'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2908476553538177893</id><published>2010-12-07T01:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T02:08:40.674-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='competing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Monkey Business</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I had these super powers and my dad was really proud of me. He gave me lots of attention, and it made my mom and sister (Sarah)  extremely jealous from the attention I got, so this made my mom and sister real awful towards me. In my dream, I still lived with my family and that our normal one-story house was a two-story. I remember climbing out of the bedroom window and walking to the edge of the roof by the porch. Then I climbed down this dinky metal post we normally have that supports the roof to the porch. Then I ran through the woods, down the hill, to our pond we had on our property. I walked around the pond until I got to the swampy areas on our property. Then I wondered if there were snakes out yet, so I kind of freaked myself out and retreated back up to the house, but crept through the woods checking for my mom and sister. I saw that they were also in the woods planning how to kill me, but barely a few yards from our yard, so I kind of booked it away from the house back to the marsh. Then I saw this tree and tried to shimmy myself up it but it kept wanting to bend down and show I was in it because I was too heavy for the tree. Then the tree fell on my dad's camper that he has near the pond, and I jump off and kept walking. I get to this library and poke around in it and look at a few of the books on the shelves. I remember seeing a shelf of Piers Anthony books, only they were romance novels and the one I picked up had an island on the cover and the title had the word "autumn" in it. After setting the book down, I decide to use a computer and find a way to move away from home. Before I get to a computer I see (the musician) Sara Quin looking at a couple books in this area that looked more like it was set up for children. I get distracted from my idea to move away and walk over to her. We both start flirting, but after a couple minutes I see my mom and sister walk in. I quickly hide under this table and Sara hides under it with me. We both are scared and hold hands. Then Sara turns into a monkey (waaah, I wanted human Sara back) and my mom notices this Sara-monkey. The setting changes and I'm walking down the driveway back to my house and my mom is trying to coax Sara-monkey to come home with us (because in my real life, my mom has wanted a monkey since she was a child). Sara-monkey is scared and hides behind a tree and doesn't really want my mom to be near her at all. I woke up at some point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2908476553538177893?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2908476553538177893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/monkey-business.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2908476553538177893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2908476553538177893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/monkey-business.html' title='Monkey Business'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3170776970823734169</id><published>2010-12-06T22:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T23:22:13.987-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>The Dream Too Good To Be True</title><content type='html'>Dreamt this morning that I had three kids. Devin and I were getting out of a car and into this building. We lived in Warrens at the time. I was carrying our youngest, this pudgy little blond-haired blue-eyed kid named Charlie and following Devin through the doors and into this office. While Devin talked to the person at the desk, I kept switching Charlie back and forth between arms. He was heavy as hell. It seems that I was changing my name or something. Devin motioned me over and then pointed to an extended room and told me I had to change my name in that room instead. I carried Charlie and walked with this guy that was a classmate of mine and followed him past this casino (where a bunch of men were playing poker or throwing money into slot machines) and I whispered in Charlie's ear that I'd always hear mothers talk about how grueling it is to carry a kid around all the time, how heavy they are, and that I now can understand their pain. Charlie giggles like he knows what I'm talking about. Then I heard someone yell, "Hey, Allie!" I looked back at the poker tables and slot machines but I can't really see anyone that looks familiar but the voice sounds like this guy that was an old childhood friend I once knew. At this point the classmate has disappeared but I go straight to this bar and wait for him to come back. He showed up again after having to go to the bathroom and sits down next to where I was standing. I sat down next to him and put Charlie in my lap. Then one of Devin's co-workers walked into the bar and everyone in the casino and bar all yell his name like in the TV show Cheers whenever Norm walks in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dream felt so realistic. It also made me sad when I woke up and realized I didn't really have this baby in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3170776970823734169?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3170776970823734169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/dream-too-good-to-be-true.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3170776970823734169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3170776970823734169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/dream-too-good-to-be-true.html' title='The Dream Too Good To Be True'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8758903868723861387</id><published>2010-12-06T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T03:56:51.052-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='warrens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><title type='text'>Deja Vu</title><content type='html'>These are two old dreams that I remembered suddenly when I was in bed. I had to write them down in case I hadn't written them down before, so here are some very brief dreams:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one I remember was being at Cranfest, a festival in the town I grew up in, and I was with a bunch of other women. We were wearing old-time clothes and looking at all kinds of gowns. I remember I found this cute pair of shoes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second one I remember being with my family and we were in this desert/dirt mound. Rock cliffs keeping us from being able to go anywhere. I remember a queen or princess had an important part in the dream. We were all trying to save her or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8758903868723861387?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8758903868723861387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/deja-vu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8758903868723861387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8758903868723861387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/deja-vu.html' title='Deja Vu'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-8190368569526403689</id><published>2010-12-06T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-14T02:21:49.448-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='belongings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='theater'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='looking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lucid dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>It's A Truck, It's A Raft, It's A Sled..</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this truck with this guy that looked slightly like Devin and also two women, one that looked a lot like Kate Hudson and the other that looked like the woman Mel from the movie Inception. We kept listening to this CB radio trying to know where these bad people were that we were hiding from. Then the truck switched to a raft in a river (that occasionally changed settings and the raft would be in this hallway, but still we couldn't get out of the raft (kind of like when you were little and you pretended the floor was lava..)). The guy we were with fell asleep and I started kissing the Kate Hudson look-a-like. Then we cuddled and she put her hand down my pants. Suddenly the raft disappears. I'm only with the guy now and we're trying to find Kate, but now she looks like Tegan Quin (or at least this is who I'm looking for now). I'm walking down this hallway and see her on the other side of the room. I start running towards her (and eventually lose the guy because he's slow as molasses) but stop because my shoes are uncomfortable. I see these comfy-looking shoes on this table and start changing shoes. When I get one shoe on, I notice that the pair I was wearing this whole time are so adorable and that I want to keep them even after I wake up from this dream (at this point the dream became lucid). So I take the new shoe off and put the old one back on. Then I notice Tegan is gone from across the room so I turn back to the hallway we were all in and start walking that way to find her. I start walking past this door and this guy that looks like the artist Bob Ross (only with slicked-back hair, not poofy hair) grabs me and drags me into this real quiet library. Everyone is silent, though heavily attentive, while I shuffle in after Bob Ross. Then he takes me to these desks in the back of the library room and there are very important people sitting down with papers in front of them. They look up at me like they expected me to come. They also look evil. I tell them that I've lost someone and I can't find them, start walking away with my hand on my forehead, trying to act calm. Then I start running. Bob Ross follows, but he's a nice guy. We both go outside and he shows me this sled and gets in, tells me he'll try to find her in it. My mind goes all fuzzy and instead of seeing my own point of view, I see the Kate-but-now-Tegan in front of a bunch of paparazzi. She takes a few photos for them and then she walks into this opera theater, my vision keeps following her until she walks into the area where the stage is. Then I see "myself" (I don't look at all like myself, though. I look like Emily Browning (Ghost Ship, The Uninvited) wearing this weird dress. It's this pink and yellow feathery gown. I sit down on this red velvet circular chair. Then this girl sits down next to me and she looks like Lacey Chabert. She holds my hand, puts her head on my shoulder.. Tries her best to comfort me. She asks me if I want to go dancing and suddenly the room turns into a psychedelic pink, green, and orange glittery room. It looks the set of Flip Wilson's show. I realize now that I'm dreaming and try to open my eyes to wake myself up from the corny dream. The first time I blink, I see wallpaper of some sort, then I woke up on the second blink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-8190368569526403689?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/8190368569526403689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-truck-its-raft-its-sled.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8190368569526403689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/8190368569526403689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-truck-its-raft-its-sled.html' title='It&apos;s A Truck, It&apos;s A Raft, It&apos;s A Sled..'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-6673404520946893523</id><published>2010-12-06T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T22:15:21.697-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movie'/><title type='text'>Wet... Kitten.</title><content type='html'>Wrote this down in my journal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thought Trapper was still alive. Looked in box, felt something wet and heavy. Something with a kitten. Also at end I was trying to watch a trailer on comp."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-6673404520946893523?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/6673404520946893523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/wet-kitten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6673404520946893523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/6673404520946893523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/12/wet-kitten.html' title='Wet... Kitten.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3443004062882179837</id><published>2010-11-25T16:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T16:12:48.223-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Dream</title><content type='html'>Thanksgiving. Dreamt I was in a chef's kitchen, walking from freezer to kitchen, back and forth. I remember grabbing eggs as an ingredient for whatever concoction this was.. I also remember the door wanting to shut on me, trying to lock me in the freezer. I kept having to keep my foot in the door every time I went into the freezer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3443004062882179837?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3443004062882179837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-dream.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3443004062882179837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3443004062882179837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-dream.html' title='Thanksgiving Dream'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-721240798039219471</id><published>2010-11-25T16:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T16:07:49.950-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rhythm'/><title type='text'>Heartbeat Addiction.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt Devin and I got this heart rate monitor complete with IV and hospital bed. We had it in our garage. I remember being in the house and Devin excused himself. After waiting for a long time, I went to the garage and found him 'hooked up'. Almost like being on this heart rate monitor and IV was an addiction. It scared me.. I was worried about him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-721240798039219471?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/721240798039219471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/heartbeat-addiction.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/721240798039219471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/721240798039219471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/heartbeat-addiction.html' title='Heartbeat Addiction.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1436655619437342339</id><published>2010-11-24T02:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T03:24:50.252-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>If Arcade Fire and Tegan &amp; Sara Played Together, I'd Be A Happy Camper.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt Devin and I were walking down this road, barely any traffic. I point to Devin that there is this really cool bridge we could walk on next to the road. The bridge does these twists and turns that look similar to roller coasters. Devin and I took a picture next to the bridge, because it was pretty. When I looked at the picture I realized I was dressed like Angus Young of AC/DC. How odd. I had this phone that was capable of getting on the internet (I know, most phones do that now, but mine doesn't, so this was weird..) and I uploaded the picture on some site and the picture turned out small and blurry. Some asshat commented on the picture about how shitty the quality was and I wanted to respond back to him with a snide remark, but the site wouldn't let me comment. At some point I remember Betty White being in my dream and mentioned the name "Laura Palmer". (I'm watching Twin Peaks this week, so this is definitely why I heard her say that name.) I was back on my phone and I was looking up concerts. I guess in my dream, Arcade Fire was going to have a concert soon and the opening bands were HIM and Tegan &amp; Sara. (They wouldn't both open, but open on separate dates. I was really hoping Tegan &amp; Sara would be the openers near my area). Then I was waiting for these live songs of Tegan &amp; Sara's to finish downloading or something and heard my dogs barking real loud. They were fighting outside, but they were fenced in near this other house like a football field away. I'm running and screaming for Devin to help me break them apart. He took forever and I remember getting pissy with him for that. When I finally got to the dogs, they stopped fighting and the woman that played Kit in Pretty Woman (Laura San Giacomo) was there. She was apparently our neighbor in the dream and I apologized to her for having the dogs being a nuisance and thanked her for helping us. She said she was glad to help and wanted to get to know us anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XjeRCsoufII?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XjeRCsoufII?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1436655619437342339?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1436655619437342339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/if-arcade-fire-and-tegan-sara-played.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1436655619437342339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1436655619437342339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/if-arcade-fire-and-tegan-sara-played.html' title='If Arcade Fire and Tegan &amp; Sara Played Together, I&apos;d Be A Happy Camper.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5463850055955438999</id><published>2010-11-24T01:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T16:03:46.707-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Beautiful Girl.</title><content type='html'>Okay, I don't really remember this dream, so I'm going to have to write this down straight from my journal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sara Quin was in my dream. I'm in a room with a bunch of people on the floor, chilling. Something to do with the song that was playing at the time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I dreamt I was at this veterinarian clinic and all the pets looked like their owners. Then I was outside in the backyard of my house with my family visiting, and I walked around to the front and found my dogs playing with the stuffed animal I recently (seriously) made for a friend, plus a bunch of other stuffed animals from my childhood. I grabbed all the stuffed animals I could and while carrying them inside the house to safety, I heard the song that was playing in my room while I was sleeping. I woke up halfway through the song. It was INXS's Beautiful Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aH986VE47M8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aH986VE47M8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5463850055955438999?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5463850055955438999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/beautiful-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5463850055955438999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5463850055955438999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/beautiful-girl.html' title='Beautiful Girl.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1715039083619974130</id><published>2010-11-21T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T22:33:54.541-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shelter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drinking'/><title type='text'>The Hairy Letter.</title><content type='html'>This is a weird dream. I dreamt that I received a letter from my dad that was coded .. with hair. In this waking life, I now realize how dumb this might sound, but I'll go on.. My dad (in real life) is dating some woman and he used to be an alcoholic before he met her. In my dream, she broke up with him and he wrote me this letter telling me that she doesn't love him anymore.. But instead of written out words, there were typed up questions, and the answers were little hairs taped into the shape of "yes" or "no"s. My dad has a beard and I can only think that this must be beard hairs (Godddd, I hope so, hahaha). Anyways, at some point he comes to the house I was in at the time (the house wasn't anywhere I've ever been before), and he's crying. I wake my sister up (she's sleeping on the floor) and show her the letter. She tells me that "We can't tell Dad what happened.." (Which doesn't make sense. My father wrote the letter, but we can't show him it?) because she's worried he'll start drinking again. Then all three of us hear above us the sound of his girlfriend moving around in the house. It was almost like we were in a secret annex or something, that we were worried she'd find out how to get to us. She seemed evil in my dream, even though I didn't see her. It just felt that way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1715039083619974130?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1715039083619974130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/hairy-letter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1715039083619974130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1715039083619974130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/hairy-letter.html' title='The Hairy Letter.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4753704177303115330</id><published>2010-11-21T02:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T02:41:51.485-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='building'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><title type='text'>Quickie.</title><content type='html'>I dreamt some guy shaved Devin's hair into a mohawk, but left the sides short. So I guess it was technically a faux-hawk. Then this guy took me and Devin through this building and I lost Devin on purpose, because I guess in my head I knew something was happening that I didn't want him to be a part of, but I also wouldn't tell myself what it was, if that makes sense. Then we got to this room where there was a bunch of women looking like the were from the 1940s with what they were wearing and their hairstyles. They were all sitting on these benches against a wall. There were probably 30 or 40 women all together. He told me to pick one of them and I picked this pretty curly blonde-haired chick wearing a dull, dark lilac silk dress/neglige. She took me to a bedroom and just started touching me everywhere. I knew Devin was coming back, so we had to hurry..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4753704177303115330?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4753704177303115330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/quickie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4753704177303115330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4753704177303115330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/quickie.html' title='Quickie.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-7370093622480182586</id><published>2010-11-21T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T02:35:28.787-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='indecision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><title type='text'>Groping.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was on a couch and some dude was sitting next to me. I was wearing this sparkly black sequin dress and he kept putting his hand on my thigh and slowly creeping up. I pushed his hand away and he wouldn't stop. Sooner or later, after a bunch of times trying to get him to stop, I gave up and I ended up having a really good dream. Like, really. good. dream. If you catch my drift. I woke up repulsed, but it felt good in my dream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also dreamt I lost my wallet and mentioned to an old classmate about how it happened before (in real life) at a water park, and how it ruined my life. Then the classmate tells me she knew who stole my wallet from long ago. Some tanned bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-7370093622480182586?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/7370093622480182586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/groping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7370093622480182586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/7370093622480182586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/groping.html' title='Groping.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-1801812325149500319</id><published>2010-11-21T01:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T02:30:35.578-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>Dogs In A Barrel.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was at the old house and it was falling apart. Walls crumbling, etc. There were these shoes in a laundry basket, so I grabbed them. Then I let a bunch of animals in the house, THOUSANDS. Then I get to the utility room/porch and my dad has a TV and a guitar amp and I can faintly hear him say, "Al. There's a camera behind you!" There is someone bad in the house. I leave the house and make sure my dog follows me. I start walking down the dirt driveway and my dog takes forever following me, he's sniffing everything he can in sight. I see a garbage barrel with a bunch of shih tzus in it, barking and wanting out. I plan to put them in my car and give one to my aunt that has been wanting a dog for awhile now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also dreamt at some point that I went to the bathroom and couldn't stop. I couldn't control my bladder. Then in my head I thought that someone once told me that someone died from being unable to stop peeing. Like they were slowly dehydrating themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANKFULLY, I didn't wake up in a puddle. Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-1801812325149500319?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/1801812325149500319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/dogs-in-barrel.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1801812325149500319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/1801812325149500319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/dogs-in-barrel.html' title='Dogs In A Barrel.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3902179705267061611</id><published>2010-11-18T22:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T19:29:22.668-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dating'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><title type='text'>Sweet Little Kitten.</title><content type='html'>I don't remember the first part of this dream, really. I think maybe I was at a campsite or something. All I remember is two girls in their teens, one pretty auburn-haired girl and the other a pretty raven-haired girl were there. They noticed a theater with a marquee reading that The Eagles were supposed to play there, so their curiosity got the best of them and they crossed the busy street to scope it out. When they walked in it wasn't a theater at all but a club instead. The color scheme looked very 70s, kind of &lt;a href="http://danyka.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/vinyl_1820.jpg"&gt;like this&lt;/a&gt;. There was an orange jukebox and (a young) Paul McCartney was poking his head from behind it. The girls kept walking until they got to the back of the club. Instead of it being The Eagles, The Monkees were there. Davy Jones walked up to them and asked them if either one would be his date for the evening. Somehow the setting changed to outside a house at night. The auburn-haired girl looked at the darker-haired one and said she wouldn't mind letting her friend go with him. I felt bad for the redhead, she was just as pretty as the other girl. Anyways, the brunette smiled shyly and the redhead walked off. Soon enough I either became the redhead, or my dream switched from third person-view to one and I became myself.  I walked to the house next door and it was my old childhood home. It was dark out, though I had a flashlight and my sister's dog with me. The lights in the house were dim and I looked to where my aunt and uncle lived and wondered if the lights would be brighter over there. I hated the dark, it was scary. I walked over and the sun seemed to rise really fast. Walking over there it was already a bit brighter out, like really early morning. Walking over there I saw my old cat Bonkers, so I moved my flashlight in his direction and he went crazy. He was starving. He rushed over and as I bent down to pet him, he bit me on my hand. (I had a dream recently that a salamander bit and latched onto my hand, in this exact same spot (near that little bit of webbing between the thumb and index finger)). In my dream, I thought, "Oh my god, oh my god. I just had a dream about this and now it's coming true!" I eventually got him off of me and I noticed my hand was mangled. It was bleeding, so I squeezed my hand with the other to keep it from bleeding any more. I keep walking to my aunt's house, hoping I can find food for this cat. By the time we get there, the cat has transformed into a kitten. I notice three packages of sausage (with one clawed open by cats but uneaten), so I tear it further and find a knife on the ground. I put the sausage on my aunt's deck and start slicing the sausage up for the kitten. On the third slice, the kitten moves closer (he's too impatient) and I accidentally cut his paw off. I freak out. I notice the cat doesn't bleed and figure it was because he was starving to death. The kitten starts to slouch further and further, as if he is dying.. I woke up feeling horrible for the kitten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a sidenote, hot damn. The song Sweet Little Kitten by Husky Rescue reminds me of this dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ka2q1FJKf8o?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ka2q1FJKf8o?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3902179705267061611?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3902179705267061611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/poor-little-kitten.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3902179705267061611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3902179705267061611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/poor-little-kitten.html' title='Sweet Little Kitten.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-5107284601900354674</id><published>2010-11-17T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T00:19:21.674-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kiss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teacher'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>Short But Bittersweet.</title><content type='html'>Today I dreamt.. well, not so much. I only remember two things. The first thing I dreamt was that I was in this dark place and I don't know if I was actually in the dream and I was just seeing this happen, or if I was in it but I didn't play a part at all. I saw Tegan Quin knelt over this bassinet and there was a baby inside. She was talking to the baby about how it had to sleep in its bassinet on a dresser. She said something like, "Don't worry.. When I was a baby, I had to sleep on dressers, too." That's all I remember for that part. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I dreamt I was kissing some hottie and woke up in another dream in bed with Devin, kissing, and I was so repulsed by the sudden change that I groaned and rolled over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-5107284601900354674?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/5107284601900354674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/short-but-bittersweet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5107284601900354674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/5107284601900354674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/short-but-bittersweet.html' title='Short But Bittersweet.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-2931578414420416694</id><published>2010-11-16T23:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-15T04:02:47.479-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='transformation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><title type='text'>She's Going Into Deep Eye!</title><content type='html'>I dreamt I was in the future and Tegan Quin was some nurse or doctor (but she looked younger, like in the So Jealous era). She wanted me to do some weird experimental medical procedure, and at first I was alright with it, so she strapped me into this dentist-like chair. That part was scary in itself, but then the seat started rising and eventually it rose all the way to this REALLY hot ceiling/lighting fixture kind of thing. It scalded my cheek. As soon as it hit my skin, I told her to put me back down, I couldn't do it. So she did, and she asked me if I could come back tomorrow for that same test, and I said, *intake of breath through clenched teeth* "Oooo, I'm busy." And she responded, "How about Monday/Wednesday?" I nodded glumly (and for some reason, I was thinking that I was planning to time travel back to present time sooner then that anyways, so she'd never find me) and while she was writing down the appointment, I walked into this hallway and looked at these pictures on the wall. The pictures were of things they had sponsored, and one of the pictures was of a gay/lesbian singing choir in baseball jerseys. There was also another picture of a woman that looked like Tina Turner complete with a short gold dress and sporting a mohawk. There was a name at the bottom of both pictures, "Kym Wilde." I assume this must have been the photographer. (FYI, I had to google this name, and apparently there is a real Kym Wilde (spelled just like that), she's a porn star.) Tegan came back out from the doctor's office and somehow the hallway turned into the kitchen at the house I lived in with my parents. She was sitting on the counter and I was hopelessly flirting, but my cock-blocking mom was holding a bag of groceries in the room as well. I kind of pull Tegan off the counter and try to look at her closely, but my vision gets super blurry. I ask her "Why can't I see you very well?" Everything is fuzzy, and she gets worried and brings out one of those pen-size flashlights. Then she mentions to someone (by this point we're back in that office, and I can't see anything at all but a very blurry face in front of me) and she says "She's going into 'Deep Eye'!" (lol, my subconscious brings up some weird doctor lingo.. I guess this must have meant I was dehydrated, because while I was in that state of shock, that's what I thought was wrong with me). I felt her and some other people strap me back down into that scary dentist-like chair, and I was relieved to wake up. I didn't like being in that chair at all, I knew I'd get burnt by that damn contraption above me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-2931578414420416694?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/2931578414420416694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/shes-going-into-deep-eye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2931578414420416694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/2931578414420416694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/shes-going-into-deep-eye.html' title='She&apos;s Going Into Deep Eye!'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-4039872570278205470</id><published>2010-11-16T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T00:27:06.775-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='victim'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sara Quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lucid dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bar'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tegan quin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep paralysis'/><title type='text'>He Turned Everyone I Knew Into Statues.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt I was in this bar and a bunch of people I knew were in there. Devin and his co-workers and some friends. I walked around at one point and saw this girl I used to like so I talked to her, but noticed she didn't actually look like herself. So I thought in my head, "Look what is happening to us. You're out of my life, and now I'm forgetting what you even look like." So I had to leave her. I went to this back room that looked like my old bedroom. I felt like I was in a hotel room, though, because on the floor was a telephone and I called Tegan &amp; Sara's hotel room and asked (because I knew they wouldn't want to come to my hotel room) if they knew this girl's hotel room number so that I could ask her to come back. I hung up right away, though, before they answered. Then I heard a phone alarm go off, when I found it, I turned it off. (It was my boyfriend's. It said "Devin signature" on the screen or something, which meant something to do with his credit card and the signature, I was thinking.) Then I heard my own phone go off, and I found it underneath my old TV in the living room at my old house. I answered, and it was this old man with a distinct english accent. He sounded suspicious. He tried to keep the conversation going even though I wanted to hang up. I had a feeling he was on his way to come to the room to get me. I walked out of my old house and walked around to the driveway. Then I saw all the people from the bar as statues. All grey marble-looking. It freaked me out and made me think this old man was a gargoyle or a vampire and he was killing everyone close to me so he could get to me. I turned around and then saw him wearing this black cape and he was coming at me, I backed up and repeated to myself "wake up.. wake up.. wake up.." while flinching in my dream body and feeling myself writhe in my real body. Then it started getting hard for me to breathe. I seriously thought in my dream that I was dying in my real body and that if I didn't wake up soon, I never would. Finally, as soon as my face writhed out of the covers I was under, I felt like I was surfacing from underwater or something. I could breathe and I woke up taking that breath in. Then my head started hurting really bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-4039872570278205470?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/4039872570278205470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/he-turned-everyone-i-knew-into-statues.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4039872570278205470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/4039872570278205470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/he-turned-everyone-i-knew-into-statues.html' title='He Turned Everyone I Knew Into Statues.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8829074912085027951.post-3130040776508641792</id><published>2010-11-16T23:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T00:22:45.323-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='with women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hurt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>God Damn Salamander.</title><content type='html'>Dreamt a woman tried to give me a striptease, but she had this salamander in a bag in the skit with her and the salamander bites onto my thumb/hand. I scream. It won't let go and I freak out. After flinging my hand around he finally releases. I have this big gash in my hand, a chunk missing. Somehow I'm a doctor and have all the necessary equipment to fix myself up. When I look at the gash, there is no blood. Where he bit looks like my insides are cooked fish. Flakey. Also, I notice a part of this salamander is stuck in my cut. There is this tiny little black speck that is flopping around like a fish would out of water, and I can literally feel it every time it trembles. I have the woman that gave me this striptease grab a pair of tweezers and get that part out. When she did that, I realize the salamander is still in the bag, only my bird in real life is in there with him. I quickly rush to get my bird out, but the salamander bit back onto me again. Then the salamander escapes out of the bag and I yell at everyone to stomp him dead. I didn't care if he was an animal, I was pissed. My depth perception was bad in the dream, so I couldn't stomp on him correctly. I awoke before I found out if he ever got destroyed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8829074912085027951-3130040776508641792?l=heartlyss.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/feeds/3130040776508641792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/god-damn-salamander.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3130040776508641792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8829074912085027951/posts/default/3130040776508641792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heartlyss.blogspot.com/2010/11/god-damn-salamander.html' title='God Damn Salamander.'/><author><name>heartLyss</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14756035958681560602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='18' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Li6h_9Ijpnc/TUZpKetm1zI/AAAAAAAAAD0/k3XHmhq18s8/s220/173498_1604430006_7576536_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
