Ade (agentfroot) wrote,
Ade
agentfroot

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i saw "scooby doo" today for the 2nd time. funny how i only watch the movie and the cartoons because of velma. i have this bizarre obsession with her, though i don't really like the other cast members. shaggy and scooby are ok, but fred and daphne need to be kicked. and scrappy is just... pointless. i'm glad he got his ass kicked in the movie and everyone laughed at him. but when velma said he wasn't really a puppy, that he had a gland problem and she and the other guy laughed... that wasn't right. and there was an evil dwarf in the movie too. what's with all these movies demonizing midgets, huh? even shrek! that movie would have been perfect if lord farquad was normal height! but nooooo, they had to make the evil guy abnormally short and make fun of him the ENTIRE movie! jeez, no wonder he's evil - he's bitter at the world for tormenting him, so he has a napoleon complex. anyway, back to scooby. why did velma wear a low-cut shirt after she was possessed? that was completely out of character. not that i didn't appreciate the view of her cleavage, but velma is a prude and wears turtlenecks!

anyway, i'm going to bed after i finish the homework i promised myself i'd finish tonight. just canto 10 of the faerie queene and about 15 pages of film articles left to go. sigh...

i had an awful dream last night. most of it wasn't bad (i did dream of velma, hehe), like browsing a thrift store and finding neat hats and keychains, watching velma run through a tunnel area underground, going to some fast food restaurant and meeting ronald mcdonald and some other weird character, driving a boat, and stuff like that. but the nightmare began this morning. i was watching a family. they were black, and there was a mother and at least 4 sons. they were apparently preparing for their own funerals. the youngest boys were wearing these loincloths and small, loose shirts. they kind of looked like jungle warriors. the mother was yelling at them to get ready to leave or something, and the second youngest boy (around 11 or 12) was digging his own grave, only it was like a cave in the wall. then the second oldest boy, who looked around 15 and was pretty fat, took a rifle and killed himself kurt cobain style. he was in the corner of the room, and it looked like my family room at home. i remember just standing there, looking at the body and the blood, thinking "oh my god, oh my god..." i was shocked and trembling and depressed, and i think i was seeing things through the eyes of the 2nd youngest boy. then the mother was yelling at the boys again, and she, the 2nd youngest boy, and the oldest boy, who looked around 25, went onto the back porch, which looked like my porch. the 2nd youngest took a big spear or shovel or spoon and began stabbing his brother while his mom just stood there. the oldest boy was lying on his stomach while being stabbed, but there was no blood. i was seeing things through the killer's perspective, and it seemed like there was no body under the clothing (a light blue suit, apparently). he just kept stabbing the cloth, and when he stabbed the grooves in the deck's wood, it indented the fabric. he just kept stabbing all over. then he went for the youngest brother, who was about 8. he was equipped with a large metal spoon, and he kept trying to whack the kid over the head with it. he/i kept missing, and the little boy pulled out his pocketknife and started slashing him/me with it. he/i could feel the stings of the knife and ran away, but the little boy kept following and slashing his/my hands. so he/i went to the kitchen and grabbed a big knife and started stabbing the kid in the chest, trying to kill him. but the knife didn't go in very deep, and there was no blood. at that point i realized i was dreaming and forced myself to wake up. i opened my eyes and refused to go back to sleep (it was 9:30 am) and tried to think nice, happy thoughts to displace the terrible, murderous nightmare thoughts skipping through my head. eventually i calmed down and went back to sleep and didn't wake up til the bells at noon. but that was a terrible, horrible dream of killing people... and why a black family, brothers killing brothers, and in a home that resembled mine? i don't know. i don't want to interpret this nightmare, not until i've gotten over it. nightmares affect my whole day, and they disturb me so much i can't concentrate on anything else. fortunately i only have them once a month or once every other month, so they don't wreak TOO much havoc on me. but occasionally i'll have a week of just plain bad dreams. not nightmares, just unpleasant dreams. i don't know why. usually my dreams are silly and fun. i better have a good dream tonight. i want to flyyyyyyyy! flying dreams are the best ones, and i always wake up happy yet annoyed that the dreams had to end.

almost 1:00. goodnight.
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