Bad Dreams

So this week has been pretty irritating for me. Not because anything particularly bad happened. I mean there was the mustache thing but compared to the alternative who even cares?

This week has just been uneventful to be honest, and uneventful weeks are the worst. At some point I'm gonna run out of important things to do and when there isn't anything that needs getting done I get antsy. I need to be working, I need to be accomplishing something or else I just go nuts. I was contemplating going out and buying a paint can and trying to fix up the shack a bit since it's falling apart, but you really shouldn't go out anymore than you absolutely need to, and I don't know all that much about home improvement anyway. I've been checking perimeters every morning and every evening and there's nothing.

I tried teaching Danny how to shoot a gun. That was a disaster. He fired one shot, dropped the gun, and told me shooting was my job and not his. It's like he doesn't comprehend the life or death part of his situation. So he's been no help. The kid needs to learn to push himself a little, I can't afford to waste time on a person with no interest in doing anything to help themselves.

Anyway, nothing to do. I've been revising some of my archives, trying to sort through what's dated and what's not for Danny to write up. I remember thinking Slenderman was an alien for a few months or so, and I some shit with star charts and broke into an observatory to see if I could locate a spaceship. I was such an idiot back then. My handwriting sucked too.

Going through old records is pretty depressing. It brings up shit you didn't really want resurfacing. And when stuff resurfaces, that's usually when I pour myself a drink or two.

And it's not a big thing, it just clears my head some, helps me think about what direction I should be heading in, but that's when I'm awake. Drinking always gives me some freaky ass dreams when I fall asleep.

Last night I fell asleep about 1 AM, and I dreamt I was in a church. It wasn't any church I'd ever been to I don't think. All the walls were wooden and painted white. They were plain except for the one behind the alter which had the cross hanging on it. There was no one inside except for me. I walked up to the alter and leaned against it, and I realized that I was bleeding. There were red stains on the alter cloth, and all over the white walls. I went to open the door so I could go outside, and when I did, there was just this inky blackness outside, like looking out into nothing. The blackness leaked inside, the way a shadow does, you know? Where you can't feel it, but the lights go out and the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. The church went pitch black and I was starting to realize that I was asleep and that I should be working on waking up when I got the distinct feeling that there was something behind me, and when I turned around to see what is was I woke up on the living room couch covered in papers.

I try to record weird dreams because as we all know they are never really just dreams for the stalked. I have a journal, but it's probably high time I start posting some of them on here. I'll have Danny do it too, though I'm not sure he'll agree to talking about it, because he's "adjusting," or something stupid like that. It's a good sanity gauge.

More research coming soon. I'm planning another outing. After that last proxy I'm running low on stuff and looking at some of these blogs online has given me a few new ideas that I'm going to need some stuff to pull off. Not going to talk about it til after the fact much. Trying to be cautious.

It's spring here in the desert. Best time of the year if you ask me, everything is just so pretty. I wish I had a camera, but I don't, so until the next time I guess.