From my journal, written in the back of the car during the drive from Port Angeles to Crescent Lake.

Deep in the secret heart of me unfinished stories from the past bubble and simmer. The ones I don't often tell and rarely pick to examine. So many of them now are dim from dust. Distant tales of nearly a decade past in a city on the other side of the world, starring a character I hardly recognize, as myself.

Ringed mares

Dreams of the outer band of my wedding ring wearing through, of outrunning tsunamis by climbing up a hill to Powell's but getting abducted as slaves by aliens, of a favorite carnival ride abandoned for fifteen years and infested with horror freak puppies. These are my dreams by night, as I slowly ebb the energy it takes to focus a tired mind awash

dreamstate of silence

The other day I wished for leafdreams back, and since then I've had vivid dreams which I've remembered almost every morning. There is no solace in the memories of these near-lucid bloodbaths. Some nights I am chased by ruthless bands of assassins. Two nights I've been back at my father's house, more realistic in its details than my cube at work in the waking world.

The other night I was there, petting my first two cats. I said to my dad, "I was two when we got Dora-- that means she's 27 now!" He nodded and agreed, but she didn't seem as though she felt particularly old. She rolled onto her back and I rubbed her belly, which was dark in the dream, but white in life.

Last night I planned and executed a plot to kill fifty guards and escape the prison camp in which I and about a dozen other people were trapped. At the end of the dream, as with the cars-running-into-the-house dream of the other night, it was utterly silent and empty.

I wished so hard for a return to inspiration last time that I had nightmares.

Transcript of last night's nightmare

I was at my dad's house; I had brought D over there for some reason.

My dad and mom were there, in the dining room-- I think I was standing talking to them while D went upstairs to use the bathroom.

Through the back windows I saw a car plummet off a cliff (not there in real life) and then continue driving towards the house.

It stopped right before colliding with the house, and my dad ran out to check to see if the driver was okay, but I tried to stop him. I went upstairs to call the police or something. I told D to stay hidden in the bathroom.

As I was reaching for the phone in my old bedroom (on the 2nd floor) I saw a HUGE two-storey tall triple-segmented truck come around the corner onto the block.

It kept turning, about to hit the house, but it turned around the side of the house and that's when I realized that the cab (with 5 or 6 burly men) was at the height of my room, so when they crashed through the side of the house I dropped the phone and ran down the stairs, but both of my parents were gone.

Everyone (of my friends/family) were gone, and I started to realize that I should just go with the men rather than run and have the men tear apart the house and find D. And that's when I woke up.