Just found an abandoned dreamlog I made in January with three entries. I like this one from 1.19.13:
Had a dream in which meteor, it was announced, was going to hit earth. My husband was a ‘non-believer,’ which seemed to an unpopular way to believe. I avoided picking sides, unsure of what I thought.
The day the meteor was to hit, I went to a spa for a facial. In the streets people were drinking and partying. Someone called me and told me that my ex-boyfriend who died a few years ago wasn’t dead anymore, and he was out drinking too.
I went inside a yellow house, the ‘spa’, and after talking with people went to the ‘spa area’ which was a pond in the backyard, surrounded by grass. I lay my face on the ground near the water and then it happened.
The sky rolled into a marbled black explosion that mirrored itself back in the pond. I felt it in my stomach, sucked into the explosion from my insides. And then a million black balloons rose up to the sky, and I felt at peace.
And then I was in the afterlife, which had receptionists to help you sort things out who also seemed to be the office workers from my highschool. I was trying to not cry, I kept saying “I didn’t think there was an afterlife.”
I sat at a computer trying to figure out what I needed to do. A faceless person, who it seems I went to highschool with, explained that if you pulled up my name in the afterlife database it said I was married to my ex-boyfriend, the one who had died before, not my husband. But I was trying to find my husband, and this confused me.
I walked through the crowd and then saw him, I realized I arrived before my husband had. We hugged, excited. I explained to him the things I’d already learned about the afterlife. Mainly that the point of being here was to exist for pleasure. That you could work here if you wanted to, but to do so is different. Your drive to do so is different.
Rachel: I have no skin care regime. I have no exercise regime. Its just all fucking madness.
Edmund: You know who your skin care regime seems really important to? Clinique and Loreal.
Rachel: I know and then I look at all of the little products in the store and I’m like, okay so I am just supposed to wash my face with all of these different things? Seems like my face would be like ‘fuck you’.
“If I were in a stressful laboratory situation and scientists made me look at photos of Jennifer Aniston, I feel my heart rate would slow to a relaxed pace.”
I wrote a thing about celebrity gossip culture and ‘role models’ that contains Jennifer Aniston fan fiction. Read at Thought Catalog.
