September 15, 2011

• Wtf

  I was having this great dream where I was imagining the Scarlet Letter reenacted in my head live-theater-style scripted exactly as it was in the book except for the minor change of Hester having a serious shopping/spending addiction which was the reason Roger Chillingworth initially left because he tried to escape going even further into debt after Hester had maxed his American Express and Visa Gold card buying massive amounts of kitchenware off of Amazon. The story progressed as usual with the book (Scarlet has bastard child, becomes outcast of town, sews giant A for 'Available' on her chest, and then etc... etc...), however it was ending with Arthur Dimmesdale having a heart attack and dying in front of his bastard child after he went to confront Hester about a credit card bill he found in the mail with unauthorized purchases only to find that there were many more letters that Hester had been hiding from him by intercepting the mail before he could read it. 

  And then I woke up to someone texting my phone... What is this nonsense? I normally sleep like a fucking rock or incredibly-hard-to-wake-sea-turtle back in California but ever since I've moved here, the smallest noises wake me up in the middle of the night leaving me wide-awake and wishing I had a brick somewhere nearby to hit myself over the head with. I don't know what it is. My theory is that it is either the fact that I sleep on the floor, or that bastard child who sleeps below me, however the bastard was awfully well-behaved and quiet today, so I have to rule that out and say it is probably the wooden-floor-mattress that I use (which is supposedly good for my back and letting the cockroaches/rats reach me more easily).

  To explain further on the bastard child, there is this baby on the floor below me of this apartment I'm staying in whose walls (The apartment's, not the baby's) seem to be about as thick as paper-mache. Whenever that son of a bitch wakes up, he lets the whole fucking world know and sometimes I just want to... UGH.... not do very nice things to that baby. I get so irritated when I am lying on my back on the floor staring at the ceiling as I hear the cries and wails of this immature and inconsiderate individual stopping me from obtaining any sort of slumber.

  'WAAA, I'M HUNGRY, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FOOD!' he screams

  'WAA, I'M NOT TIRED ANYMORE, EVERYONE WAKE THE FUCK UP!' he shouts

  I am thinking about breaking into the apartment downstairs and just plugging ear-plugs into the baby's head so that when he wakes up and starts crying, he won't hear himself and think that he is isn't crying and then trip-balls and think that he is in a dream within a dream, and the only way to wake up is to fall back asleep.

  Or maybe I'll just use the ear plugs myself to stop my savage urges to punt the baby out of a window or off a bridge or something. 

  That was a bit of a tangent, but back to the main point of this poast: Seriously, what did my dream mean? Any English teachers around to provide me with some insightful, thought-provoking analysis? 

  

  • 1:49 am
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