<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUFSXg9cSp7ImA9WhRVGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488</id><updated>2012-01-18T19:36:58.669-08:00</updated><category term="breasts" /><category term="cancer" /><category term="teeth" /><category term="babies" /><category term="eaten in and out" /><category term="jedi" /><category term="Regreting School" /><category term="♥ Matsumoto Jun" /><category term="art gallery" /><category term="relationships" /><category term="go with the flow" /><category term="museum" /><category term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category term="bridesmaid" /><category term="candles burning" /><category term="Squal - the ex" /><category term="♥ Vincent Kartheiser" /><category term="prom" /><category term="♥ Goro Inagaki" /><category term="fabric" /><category term="red dress" /><category term="rat race" /><category term="♥ Nakai Masahiro" /><category term="♥ Ryan Agoncillo" /><category term="♫ Arashi" /><category term="weddings" /><category term="Doodles - the BFF" /><category term="*a story made for me to finish*" /><category term="harry potter" /><category term="guardians" /><category term="TV" /><category term="*2nd person perspective*" /><category term="elbi peeps" /><category term="♫ Big Bang" /><category term="bullies" /><category term="$ex" /><category term="death is change" /><category term="poop" /><category term="*cinematic*" /><category term="♥ Oguri Shun" /><category term="♥ Ohno Satoshi" /><category term="nipples" /><category term="band of brothers" /><category term="mommy dearest" /><category term="★ Angel Locsin" /><category term="♫ SMAP" /><category term="remote control" /><category term="Snakes" /><category term="leechers of energy" /><category term="*1st person perspective*" /><category term="commitment" /><category term="flood" /><category term="fire" /><category term="fur" /><category term="Uno- the Hang-Up" /><category term="colors like option" /><category term="preggers" /><category term="protection of the womb" /><category term="Las Pinas" /><category term="Oscar" /><category term="*retrospect*" /><category term="♥ Sakurai Sho" /><category term="debt" /><category term="art painting" /><category term="facing myself" /><category term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category term="★ Dimples Romana" /><category term="Los Banos" /><category term="bullet" /><category term="♥ Mario Maurer" /><category term="Shower" /><category term="♥ Aiba Masaki" /><title>++*Faeries and Demons*++</title><subtitle type="html">At night, Morpheus slips in my room and introduces himself as Jay.  He blows his sparkling dusts in my head and delivers images only I can comprehend.  And in the morning, I transcribe these visions for me to re-visit.  

It may be warnings.  It may be Gifts.  It may just be an explanation of myself.  Or just as simple as a dream.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>45</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/faeriesAndDemons" /><feedburner:info uri="faeriesanddemons" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUFSXgzcCp7ImA9WhRVGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4714801085112851223</id><published>2012-01-18T14:27:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T19:36:58.688-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T19:36:58.688-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nipples" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="debt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="breasts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cancer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>Relationships and Dependency</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wkYDh5NpqmN9JPdJWLPFVuupNek/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wkYDh5NpqmN9JPdJWLPFVuupNek/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wkYDh5NpqmN9JPdJWLPFVuupNek/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wkYDh5NpqmN9JPdJWLPFVuupNek/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I remember looking at my naked self in the mirror.  One breast was swollen, one nipple was bigger than the other.  Surprised by the difference, I checked for more irregularity. I found a third nipple on the swollen breast. When I pinched it, milk came out, or was it pus? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember calling She for help. I remember her coming in and taking a look at my breast, and that the breast had sag so low it had become a lump in my belly.  She pushed it, pushed it down hard, and I felt the pain that came with it.  She cut my back and pushed it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember staining my top. I remember going to the river to wash it. I remember following a girl who was going to wash her clothes in the river. I remember the river was up to my waist and I borrowed a soap floating around that the other girl used. When I tried to return the soap to the other women washing the clothes, they said it wasn't theirs. No one would claim it. I let it float in the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember noticing the edge of the river rising. High tide. But it was rising fast. Rising in a hurry. I called everyone's attention and warned them to go up. I remember watching people climbing up the riverbed. I remember waving through the river to reach the bed. &lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm growing dependent again. But, right now, I have no choice as my expenses are higher than my income. And with that comes with the feeling of debt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all it means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4714801085112851223?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/RJhV0ZJj-N0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4714801085112851223/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4714801085112851223" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4714801085112851223?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4714801085112851223?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/RJhV0ZJj-N0/relationships-and-dependency.html" title="Relationships and Dependency" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2012/01/relationships-and-dependency.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYDRns5eSp7ImA9WhdbGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-6470920916645040011</id><published>2011-10-17T08:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T09:16:17.521-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-17T09:16:17.521-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Uno- the Hang-Up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elbi peeps" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="commitment" /><title>Resolutions</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcQquZq9sFgna86EVdvdiJjASFI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcQquZq9sFgna86EVdvdiJjASFI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcQquZq9sFgna86EVdvdiJjASFI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IcQquZq9sFgna86EVdvdiJjASFI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;For two days straight, I dreamt of a continuing story about resolving things with Uno.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;FIRST NIGHT&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He finally sat down and listened to me. He finally accepted the love I have for him. He even listened and understood all excuses I threw at him. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He made a deal with me: I forget the past; I abandon all excuses; we ignore all external influences; we start over, as two people in love. As should have been done from the beginning.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He took my hand and pressed it on his chest. I felt his beating heart, strong but steady. It calmed me down.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He pulled me into his arms, wrapped me in an embrace.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;All was quiet. I was at peace.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;SECOND NIGHT&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Distraction walked my way. Nino came, and swept me off my feet. I was excited and embarrassed, like a shy five-year-old girl being given a Christmas gift by a newly introduced uncle. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I fell for his commanding presence, his charm and his assurance. He didn't promise anything, just made me feel my existence is important. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As we were cuddling on the couch, Uno came in and caught me, in a way, cheating.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Uno turned around quickly and stomped out. I ran after him, apologetic and shaking. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I told Uno that I still wanted him and that I still loved him, but I couldn't let Nino go now that I have him; that I'd understand if he hated me and didn't want to see me anymore.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Uno told me calmly, though I could see him controlling his anger, to go to Nino, enjoy my day with Nino and be back to him by midnight. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I obeyed.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I ran quickly to find Nino with the strong resolve to end things with him. But, I couldn't find him.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I was left torn. Who do I belong with?&lt;br&gt;
_________________________________________&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Granted this came out because I had mentioned UNO again in a conversation with ate Jo. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Yet, this wishful thinking is the most relaxing feeling I've had in months.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I still want to see him. But what will come out of it? Would I really have to leave my fangirling behind if UNO comes with me?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-6470920916645040011?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/EcZDYTEjDyM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/6470920916645040011/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=6470920916645040011" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6470920916645040011?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6470920916645040011?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/EcZDYTEjDyM/resolutions.html" title="Resolutions" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/10/resolutions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkABQX49fyp7ImA9WhdTFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-1762255847860577353</id><published>2011-07-13T01:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T05:05:50.067-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-13T05:05:50.067-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="protection of the womb" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jedi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="harry potter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="preggers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>Preggers in the Premier Night</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/phbB_P8U-0sHF-KBLEQIQMjlQvw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/phbB_P8U-0sHF-KBLEQIQMjlQvw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/phbB_P8U-0sHF-KBLEQIQMjlQvw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/phbB_P8U-0sHF-KBLEQIQMjlQvw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Chofan was manning the buffet table, her round belly protruded as people greeted her.  She was wearing a deep purple shimmering chiffon gown.  When light hit her belly, the corset underneath the dress could be seen.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I approached her, gave the customary air-kisses, and asked her, "corset? really?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chofan answered that it was more necessary now than ever.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a special event for Harry Potter.  Some stars of he movie will be there.  This guy from the movie "&lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1152398/" title="Beastly (film)" rel="imdb"&gt;Beastly&lt;/a&gt;" came in dressed in robes -- but more like &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi" title="Jedi" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Jedi&lt;/a&gt; robes than Harry Potter -- bowed to the cheering crowd.  I thought to myself, the place seems to be too small for events like this.  I asked Chofan, now that she has changed to Harry Potter robes (still looking like Jedi robes), who the celebrities were.  She answered me with so much excitement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the celebrities performed and left, everyone was given an answer sheet -- a pop exam.  Yet, I was expecting it.  I tried to copy from Chofan, but I wasn't sure if I got the right anwers from her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically it's still all about my anxiety over the change of life (pregnancy); Me stressing on this change (corset); when I should be relaxing for everything will be alright (purple dress); because I am strong and I've survived before (Harry Potter) and that I need to trust my mental powers (Jedi).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah. That's my interp.  What's yours?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=6c1f3c5c-e433-45d7-bce4-55004760e4e4" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-1762255847860577353?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/KnXrmkXt1t4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/1762255847860577353/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=1762255847860577353" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/1762255847860577353?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/1762255847860577353?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/KnXrmkXt1t4/preggers-in-premier-night.html" title="Preggers in the Premier Night" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/07/preggers-in-premier-night.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUASX85fSp7ImA9WhdTFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-8618910452436027427</id><published>2011-07-11T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T02:50:48.125-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-12T02:50:48.125-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="colors like option" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*2nd person perspective*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="band of brothers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="TV" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Las Pinas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="remote control" /><title>Anger Management</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A5rb-yPoDW09yntHD1BcYuhpkok/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A5rb-yPoDW09yntHD1BcYuhpkok/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A5rb-yPoDW09yntHD1BcYuhpkok/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A5rb-yPoDW09yntHD1BcYuhpkok/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I have a lot of anger in my dreams. It probably manifest itself there as I repress it in real life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-oOo-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. LOST THINGS&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a gated community in &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://maps.google.com/maps?ll=14.6333333333,121.033333333&amp;amp;spn=0.1,0.1&amp;amp;q=14.6333333333,121.033333333%20(Las%20Pi%C3%B1as)&amp;amp;t=h" title="Las Piñas" rel="geolocation"&gt;Las Pinas City&lt;/a&gt;, I took a tricycle home as I made my way home. I had a choice between the red line or the blue line, and I chose the blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The driver was a girl and she was new, so she had with her a teacher of sorts. She brought me to the exit of the gated community, where the department store RFC stood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got off and asked how much it cost. She told me PhP 12.00.  So I put down my bag, and took out my coin purse, but I couldn't understand the coins as they weren't the same coins when I left the &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippines" title="Philippines" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Philippines&lt;/a&gt;.  They actually had me confused between the 50-peso coin and the 5-peso.  It took me a while to complete the 12-peso fair.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got back to my bag, the bag was open and my Blackberry, IPad and other important belongings were already swiped. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got so angry that I screamed at everybody around me, incluing the tricycle driver.  Violently swayed the bag trying to hit everybody in my way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. BROTHERLY (UN)LOVE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never abandoned my brothers.  THEY ABANDONED ME.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So my brother, JC, was staying at the room next to mine.  I closed my door and turned on the TV with the volume at mid range so as not to disturb neighbors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;JC barged into my room and grabbed the remote control from my hands.  He tries to turn down the volume.  He looked at me and smirked, then put the TV on mute.  When that did not get any reaction, he turned off the TV and threw the remote to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In sudden rage, I went after him and started kicking and punching. Even in my lightest-girliest punch, I was giving it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up in the middle of kicking and punching.  I was heaving trying to catch my breath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;__________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;I chose blue over red. Peace over agression. Optimism over Negativity.  However, in the end, I still lost hold of my temper.  Or maybe because I repress it all, that's why I lost my temper in my dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;Losing important stuff only means -- still -- the anxiety over the change in my life.  So am I angry that I'm thrown at this change without giving me any options at all?  Or does it mean, I'm angry at losing all the opportunity I could have?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;The fair means how much I have valued myself.  It's not just 12 pesos as I'm willing to give 50 even. It's just that I think it's how much people are valuing me -- at least in my perspective.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;As for my brother -- I guess, I feel like my brother is pushing my buttons when it comes to things I want to do.  Or maybe, he's still ranting about it.  And this angers me.  Because he has always been the one who never supported me in my dreams.  Really.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;Hang up.  Is all he'll ever be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=ba3fcd42-06a8-409a-89f0-c0eba4a7b821" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-8618910452436027427?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/26CY4gDUqNg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/8618910452436027427/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=8618910452436027427" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/8618910452436027427?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/8618910452436027427?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/26CY4gDUqNg/anger-management.html" title="Anger Management" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/07/anger-management.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0INQnc7fip7ImA9WhdTEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4016482439596187901</id><published>2011-07-07T22:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T01:59:53.906-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-08T01:59:53.906-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ohno Satoshi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fabric" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="art painting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="art gallery" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="museum" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>Ohno and Art Gallery</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TQ9Ti80NBnZ47Q9-85ENYe3sbX8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TQ9Ti80NBnZ47Q9-85ENYe3sbX8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TQ9Ti80NBnZ47Q9-85ENYe3sbX8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/TQ9Ti80NBnZ47Q9-85ENYe3sbX8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This was supposed to be written yesterday. But, since, I forgot to write it most of the memory of the dream has degraded.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know how I got there, but as I passed by a building between Orchard Rd., and Sommerset, I saw Lauren's (Dood's cousin) name on a big tarp hanging on top of the floor announcing her art exhibit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Intrigued, I went in and looked for the room where the art exhibit is being held.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went through different doors and different exhibits, so much like the time I went to Singaporean Art Museum. A girl I was with went in ahead, pulling my hand, dragging me to a corner of one of the museum's room.  We passed by &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satoshi_Ohno" title="Satoshi Ohno" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Ohno Satoshi&lt;/a&gt;, who was sitting at the curator's table. He was the assistant and at that time guarding exhibit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the very back, the girl I was with let go of my hands and walked on to look at the instillation art she was excited about. I looked to my left and I saw rolls and rolls of fabrics. It was sparkling in my eyes, but I knew it was only sparkling in my mind.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohno, ran after us.  When he caught up, he said in between catching breath, "Forget he fabric!" as if I had said my thoughts out loud. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He grabbed my hands and pulled me over in front a wall mounted instillation art.  I couldn't understand the art itself.  But, the mixed media of paint, water color and wood made it -- for the lack of a bettter word -- interesting.  There were three of them.  But all of them, the splatter of water was being covered by the wooden material incorporated in the art pieces.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohno was droning off beside me, explaining the art itself and the artist.  However, I wasn't paying attention.  I was hypnotized by the art piece. I had become a doll, being dragged around by Ohno from one art piece to another.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;______________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"To see a museum in your dream, indicates that your non-traditional path to success will make you stand out from the rest." -- so says Dream Mood site.  How I wish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I went in the museum. Going in the museum is still a re-evaluation of my life.  And the evaluation?  In Ohno's words - "Forget the fabrics!"  But, they said, Fabric is a symbol of creativity in dreams.  Does that mean, I have to forget being creative?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What about the Art Gallery?  Is there something in my past making an impact in my present? Or should I preserve the moments I have now before I leave?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the answer is what Ohno has been trying to show me.  The painting -- is my intuition and epiphany.  But, my colors, my creativity, it's boarded up.  That's what Ohno was trying to tell me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;TT_TT&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=d428ee8f-b220-4d7c-bfd6-07350c2b5fc4" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4016482439596187901?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/b-HUnS9iACo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4016482439596187901/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4016482439596187901" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4016482439596187901?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4016482439596187901?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/b-HUnS9iACo/ohno-and-art-gallery.html" title="Ohno and Art Gallery" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/07/ohno-and-art-gallery.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cMRncycCp7ImA9WhZaFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-3955150751330940666</id><published>2011-06-29T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T20:31:27.998-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-30T20:31:27.998-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="red dress" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*2nd person perspective*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fur" /><title>Red Prom Dress and Faux Fur</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFKh_FchFDtBtatGKLaWmNiL9-w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFKh_FchFDtBtatGKLaWmNiL9-w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFKh_FchFDtBtatGKLaWmNiL9-w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFKh_FchFDtBtatGKLaWmNiL9-w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I don't want to go to details today.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What stood out for me in today's set of dreams are two things. Another red ceremonial dress and another faux fur. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prom night this time.  I didn't want to attend, but seeing as the whole prom was skipped by so many, I went after all.  But, I did not dress up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A classmate was wearing a gorgeous red dress, which she mentions was supposed to be mine had I decided to go in the first place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When they were trying to take a picture of all of those who went, they grabbed me and wrapped me with fur.  They said, at least, I won't look out of place with just red shirt and shorts surrounded by formally dressed people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;so really,  what does this mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it's the same thing all over again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prom -- endings for new beginnings,  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Red dress -- passion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fur -- wealth.  But since it's faux fur, what does that mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-related"&gt;&lt;h6 class="zemanta-related-title" style="font-size:1em;margin:1em 0 0 0;"&gt;Related articles&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;ul class="zemanta-article-ul"&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/bridesmaid-dress.html"&gt;Bridesmaid Dress&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=354b1ea4-d8a6-4cdd-9b7a-2c7f599f5a04" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-3955150751330940666?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/9vMRfHttiA8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/3955150751330940666/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=3955150751330940666" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3955150751330940666?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3955150751330940666?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/9vMRfHttiA8/red-prom-dress-and-faux-fur.html" title="Red Prom Dress and Faux Fur" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/red-prom-dress-and-faux-fur.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAASXk9fCp7ImA9WhZaE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-5499260685663834960</id><published>2011-06-28T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T23:09:08.764-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-28T23:09:08.764-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="$ex" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="relationships" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="commitment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>Nino Again</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5zk5EF0vcLJM7Sug_0_PU0Ik1kM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5zk5EF0vcLJM7Sug_0_PU0Ik1kM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5zk5EF0vcLJM7Sug_0_PU0Ik1kM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5zk5EF0vcLJM7Sug_0_PU0Ik1kM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This is fast becoming a Nino Dream Blog.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But It's not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BUT THIS IS A NINO DREAM ENTRY.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am locked in my dark room, curled up in a ball on my bed, watching a TV show.  Haven't taken a bath, haven't even brushed my teeth.  Haven't even washed my face .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The door cracks open, a small amount of light comes in.   I hear footsteps approach me, but I don't even raise my head to look at who came in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I feel his hair fall on my cheeks as he planted a kiss on my temple. I hear his bag drop with a thud. His head moves to my neck, I feel his warm breath on it.  He doesn't kiss.  He just stays bent over his nose and mouth on my neck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a few seconds, he pushes my body to give him space on the bed.  He lies down and spoons me, his right arm wraps around my waist and clutches me tighter to him.  With his left hand, he turns my face to him and he kisses me on my mouth, strong and hard.  I feel his tongue.  I feel him sucking me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I face him and and push him down the bed, pull his shirt over his head.  I plant small kisses on his tiny frame.  In my head, I think, only I can see that the one-pack is fake.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He pulls me up to him in an effort to kiss me again.  But, then, I remember that I haven't brushed my teeth and I got embarrassed.  I apologize to him and say I'll brush my teeth first.  And he says in Japanese, "Nevermind that.  I'm hard already."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In half obedience, I go down again, try to take off his pants.  Halfway of pulling down his pants, he let out a sigh.  He is no longer in the mood.  And he says in English, "Why did you even have to bring that up."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I lick his nipple to turn him on again, but he pushes me away and says it won't work.  He asks me, "Why do you have to be like this?  Why can't you give me all of you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I start crying.  I stroke his legs, feeling his leg hair, begging him to give me time to adjust.  "I'm trying.  It's been so long since I was in a relationship, and they were all failures.  I don't know how to do this, but I'm trying.  I swear."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He doesn't respond for awhile.  He just lays there, with his pants half down, his boxers showing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I let him go.  And curl up at the foot of the bed, crying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I just need you to give yourself to me," was the last I heard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up with that line ringing in my head.  Despite the fact that I was crying really hard in my dream, I was a happy happy camper when I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And who wouldn't be?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Should I even analyze this dream?  In the end, it'll just come out as a reflection on my fear of moving.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="zemanta-related"&gt;&lt;h6 class="zemanta-related-title" style="font-size:1em;margin:1em 0 0 0;"&gt;Related articles&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;ul class="zemanta-article-ul"&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/nino-my-sweet-detective-lover.html"&gt;Nino, My Sweet Detective Lover&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/ninos-goodbye-girl.html"&gt;Nino's Goodbye Girl&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/04/nino-and-his-butai.html"&gt;Nino and his Butai&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/boarding-house.html"&gt;Boarding House&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="zemanta-article-ul-li"&gt;&lt;a href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/motel-part-12.html"&gt;MOTEL -- Nino (Part 1/2)&lt;/a&gt; (highpriestessdek.blogspot.com)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=a25e7c21-8de3-4ca9-a82a-e8ed925004cd" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-5499260685663834960?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/NdQBIP7kPmw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/5499260685663834960/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=5499260685663834960" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/5499260685663834960?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/5499260685663834960?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/NdQBIP7kPmw/nino-again.html" title="Nino Again" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/nino-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AFQHc_cSp7ImA9WhZaEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-6320991459673400204</id><published>2011-06-27T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T21:35:11.949-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-27T21:35:11.949-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="weddings" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bridesmaid" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fur" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Doodles - the BFF" /><title>Bridesmaid Dress</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pvYhUcunbQx8UdiSyKOaELDiqMw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pvYhUcunbQx8UdiSyKOaELDiqMw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pvYhUcunbQx8UdiSyKOaELDiqMw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pvYhUcunbQx8UdiSyKOaELDiqMw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I was having a red bridesmaid dress made. Doodles was getting married. To Paco. But, Paco was also my lover on the side. Weh?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The dress was satin red with chiffon pleats on the upper torso. Baby doll cut, spaghetti straps, and it only goes down to above my knees.  It also comes with a faux fur shawl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't see Doodles in the dream. The dream comprised mostly of searching for the dressmaker, the shop closing and Paco and I talking about the break up or something. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being a bridesmaid means either of two things. There's a looming romance or I'm looking for one.  For the past 3 years, after my last real relationship, I have been only committed to Arashi. Suffice it to say, my heart or mind does not long for one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fur = wealth. Would I have an easier life coming to me? I already have a relatively easy life here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a moment when I felt we were getting lost. I guess, this move is really getting to me.  Am I losing sight of where I'm going?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Weddings are new beginnings. Or death. But since I didn't see the actual ceremony in my dream, I'm going for new beginnings.  Which is apt right?  Right now, I'm packing things up to bring to my temporary home before I fly out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This move, is really really really affecting my psyche.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-6320991459673400204?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/pB_Y8U9sF3o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/6320991459673400204/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=6320991459673400204" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6320991459673400204?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6320991459673400204?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/pB_Y8U9sF3o/bridesmaid-dress.html" title="Bridesmaid Dress" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/bridesmaid-dress.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUERHg5eCp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-3667937625641764189</id><published>2011-06-25T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:03:25.620-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T23:03:25.620-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Snakes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Shower" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*2nd person perspective*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Las Pinas" /><title>A Pulp Fiction of Dreams</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L88TMTWSgEryEO96ESwse3B_OD8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L88TMTWSgEryEO96ESwse3B_OD8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L88TMTWSgEryEO96ESwse3B_OD8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L88TMTWSgEryEO96ESwse3B_OD8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I can only remember a few. Most of them, my waking memories were intact -- but. slightly affected.  The setting were mostly in Las Pinas, where I grew up, specifically my Aunt's home town. &lt;div&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) Snake Bite and the end of the world &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;End of the world is nigh. We're just waiting for our end, hoping that we'll survive it, if not die in our sleep.  We were told, our will be different for each person or couple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mine was snake bite on the back of my hand.  I saw a guy -- supposedly my lover or husband -- got bitten by a snake. When i tried to touch him, a piercing pain clamped on my hands.  I threw away the snake, it was big actually. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Together, hand-in-hand, we walked out of the safe house and into the street, looking at kids in the school, reminiscing our childhood and how we climbed up the mango tree, welcoming our death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Simplified -- end of the world symbolizes my stress and my helplessness -- and, yet, I don't know how to ask for help. It's all this moving thing. (And probably missing the chance to get a Waku-Waku Arashi school sticker D:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being bitten by a snake is no different. It's still the worries and stress. It could also mean, someone's out to stab me in the back. But, right now, I don't care about that -- 'coz I'm leaving, and stabbing me in the back will not amount to anything.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Shooting with Clint Eastwood was over before I've even absorbed it.  He told me to go take a shower, and afterwards I can leave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But everytime I try to take a shower, one or more of the male staff comes in the bathroom, or stands by the window to watch me.  I already had no top on, and was just covering myself with the shirt I took off.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could not understand why they wouldn't let me have my momentary privacy in the shower. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My new role has been set for me, but I do not know how it'll go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The shower was meant to be a renewal, but, I couldn't go on with this renewal because I'm bothered by the people -- probably the people I'm leaving behind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time I'm writing this part, I've already forgotten the rest. I should never open any other browser tabs when I'm writing dreams.  I'm so incorrigible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-3667937625641764189?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/SCOoYAL0nNM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/3667937625641764189/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=3667937625641764189" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3667937625641764189?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3667937625641764189?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/SCOoYAL0nNM/pulp-fiction-of-dreams.html" title="A Pulp Fiction of Dreams" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/pulp-fiction-of-dreams.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUERHg5fCp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4789940211951735199</id><published>2011-06-24T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:03:25.624-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T23:03:25.624-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Nakai Masahiro" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Goro Inagaki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Regreting School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♫ Arashi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Oguri Shun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Matsumoto Jun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Las Pinas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bullies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>A Fight in the School</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SkpKGIdCZtlihUemf8R_r4m6iIE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SkpKGIdCZtlihUemf8R_r4m6iIE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SkpKGIdCZtlihUemf8R_r4m6iIE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SkpKGIdCZtlihUemf8R_r4m6iIE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The setting is school. High school -- once again, to be exact. Probably caused by reading up reports of Waku-Waku Arashi School, but, it could also mean something else entirely.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While most of the earlier parts of the dream have already started degrading from my memory as I type this, the last part was the funniest and most entertaining anyways.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was raining hard. School was in progress.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shun_Oguri" title="Shun Oguri" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Shun Oguri&lt;/a&gt;, a classmate, was teasing me with a few other guys.  Then, a little boy from the &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taekwondo" title="Taekwondo" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Taekwondo&lt;/a&gt; club suddenly started sexist jokes that infuriated me.  I was just slightly higher, but he had a heavier built. I dared him to take it on out, mano y mano. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we went out in the rain, in the quadrangle, and started fighting.  In my head, I had no chance of winning. I was nervous, but I had to do it because I called him out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everytime he tried to give me a flying kick, I would catch his legs and swing him around and threw him in the pond. It happened three times. The crowd was cheering under the rain.  Shun was laughing at his tiny corner.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the fight was broken up by &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masahiro_Nakai" title="Masahiro Nakai" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Nakai Masahiro&lt;/a&gt;, student council president.  He pulled me to the faculty office. &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goro_Inagaki" title="Goro Inagaki" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Goro Inagaki&lt;/a&gt;, student council secretary, was walking behind him shoo-ing the students and telling them to go back to their classrooms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked Nakai, "Am I going to be suspended?" to which he responded, "What do you think?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The teachers in the faculty office was not concerned with what was happening.  We went past them and they just continued doing what they were doing.  Nakai told Goro to go call MatsuJun. &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jun_Matsumoto" title="Jun Matsumoto" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Matsumoto Jun&lt;/a&gt;, student council sergeant of arms, who should have been the one breaking up the fight.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When he came, he was with &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazunari_Ninomiya" title="Kazunari Ninomiya" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Ninomiya Kazunari&lt;/a&gt;, student council treasurer.   They were followed by the school directress who said that the students were rooting for me because most of them were from Arashi faction, to which the treasurer and the sergeant of arms giggled to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was trying to cover my face with my hair in shame.  I have never been suspended from school before.  When I looked at MatsuJun, he gave me an approving smile and nod.  It was like, he guarantees no suspension will happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While Nakai was droning off in the background about school rules and regulations, Goro was asking me about the fight and how I won it.  He was super excited and every sentence, though not outrightly, meant that he's also on my side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;______________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm assuming I didn't get the suspension.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't want to get the meaning of this one because, it's mostly full of lolz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before it lead to this dream, I was making out with some guy, I can't remember who it was.  At first I thought it was Nino, but i can't be because he wouldn't have appeared as two different characters in my dream. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder who it was I was making out. It felt so real. And he was so thin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;      &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=7a2e24d7-b83c-42ad-aa9b-91276381031f" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4789940211951735199?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/fUCQPFLJQoU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4789940211951735199/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4789940211951735199" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4789940211951735199?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4789940211951735199?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/fUCQPFLJQoU/fight-in-school.html" title="A Fight in the School" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/fight-in-school.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcFQ3Y8eSp7ImA9WhZUGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4455042023418530757</id><published>2011-06-12T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T22:13:32.871-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-12T22:13:32.871-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="death is change" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*2nd person perspective*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><title>High School [Part 2]</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G0eeCx7dm59yIVE-LIbjAxuUooQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G0eeCx7dm59yIVE-LIbjAxuUooQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G0eeCx7dm59yIVE-LIbjAxuUooQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G0eeCx7dm59yIVE-LIbjAxuUooQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;i&gt;It took me a little time to write the first part, and so details for this has already degraded in my head.  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like I've always been, I was loitering around the campus when the fire alarm started to ring.  This time, it was for real.  I still saw no smoke or fire.  But, the feeling of the atmosphere seemed to be heavy.  But the ring was faint and the classes seemed to have not heard it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ran up the stairs to help with the evacuation of the students.  In each classroom, I told the teachers that the drill is on and that they have to move out.  One male teacher tried to ignore me and went on with his lessons, but I asserted the urgency of this alarm and that it is not a drill.  Another teacher told him to listen and just go.  He gathered up his students and flocked them out of the building. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I joined them outside as we looked up at the still and quiet building.  The chatters of the student and the faint ringing of the bell envelopes our surrounding.  But, the building stayed still.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The male teacher kept on telling people that I must have triggered the alarm to skip classes.  I ignored him, as my curiosity took possession of me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I slowly walked upstairs, leaving the noise behind.  A few more students hurried out.  I followed the hallway, checking the empty classrooms for students that might have been stubborn enough not to leave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A couple of teachers did the same, but did not tell me off.  In fact, they only checked the classrooms I've checked and let me lead the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the last classroom of hall, at turn of the corner, I saw a pair of legs on the floor -- khaki pants, dark brown shoes.  A pair of a man's legs.    I approached it and saw that the man was dead.  I saw no blood or cut, but I knew he was brutally murdered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the classroom next to it, a pair of women lay dead.  No blood, no cut.  Pale as if blood had been drained.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I continued on to follow the hallway in its next turn.  I saw three women, two of them lying down.  The one standing told me that they're alive, but injured.  I looked at the women lying down.  One was pale and scared.  The other, had a towel over half of her face.  She gave me a glare before turning around.  As she turned around, the towel covering her face moved, and, I saw that that half of her face was flayed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ran and told the teachers about the dead bodies.  Then, I blacked-out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I came to, I was in the room across the classroom where the dead man's body was found.  I took the blue towel on the wall and hurried out.  I guess, in my hurry, a thread was caught by the door and unraveled.  I was so scared to go back and let the thread loose, thus, I try to cut it from the towel itself.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, I heard scuffling from down the stairs.  I over-heard one of the faculty saying, "She's awake, hurry hide." with excited voices.  I look over the balcony and see part of a banner that has my name and the beginning of the word "Congratulations"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I stood still.  I didn't know what was more dreadful.  This surprise party, or the thought of staying in a place where I discovered dead bodies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Death has always meant change for me.  But I could never understand what corpses mean to me.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Generally, a corpse mean that something within the dreamer has died.  Usually, an ambition or drive.  I don't think my ambitiono or drive has died.  But, I do feel, I'm at a standstill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It may also mean that the dreamer is not expressing him or herself.   In which case, I don't run out of things to express.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what does this mean?  Dreaming of corpses recurs to me frequently.  I need to know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A blue thread is something new to me.  Obviously, it's a path or an option I can take at this stand still.  Am I trying to run away from a path that I'm supposed to be in?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The injured woman definitely means something.  Why the face.  Why only half of the face.  Why was she flayed.  What does being skinned mean?  Why was she glaring at me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need help in this dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4455042023418530757?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/54ZVbcD1FK0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4455042023418530757/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4455042023418530757" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4455042023418530757?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4455042023418530757?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/54ZVbcD1FK0/high-school-part-2.html" title="High School [Part 2]" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/high-school-part-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUERHg5fyp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-3201852499805885872</id><published>2011-06-12T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:03:25.627-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T23:03:25.627-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Regreting School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Las Pinas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*1st person perspective*" /><title>High School [Part 1]</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8SxOxhxU5eqEknRfxpUsZUXzPxI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8SxOxhxU5eqEknRfxpUsZUXzPxI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8SxOxhxU5eqEknRfxpUsZUXzPxI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8SxOxhxU5eqEknRfxpUsZUXzPxI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I slept at around 4am. (+8GST). But at 7am, I woke up from a dream, not exactly a nightmare, however disturbing.  Since it was too early for me, I slept a bit more trying to memorize the key symbols for that dream.  I should have expected to get a second dream, equally as vivid and more disturbing.  I could not remember how both dreams started.  But, I can remember the smallest detail, including -- but not limited to -- the feelings inside the dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;meta equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Today's dream is in divided into two entries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;As I'm writing this entry, I realized that both dreams have FIRE DRILLS as passive symbol.  In both dreams, it was the inciting event.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-oOo-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fire alarms blasted through the hallway as I climbed the stairs.  Feet scuffled on the planks of the hard wood floors. As I reached the top of the stairs, students were already lining up to get out of the building.  The crowd was lead of J.Lee, a pretty Chinese Filipina classmate in Camella School.  She was one of the movers and shakers of the popular group. I was the social butterfly who didn't want to be affiliated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But there seems to be some animosity between us brought about by a subtle competitive relationship. We were both in the student council.  Struggling over power.  Who should lead, whose projects should be approved, who has more followers, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was trying to get down the stairs, and I was in her way.  So I clutched my skirt (school uniform's blue plaid) and stepped aside to give way to the horde of female students lead by J.Lee. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I, at least, respected her calmness and ability to lead the pack through the drill.  I was wondering about the sudden fire alarms.  I smell no smoke.  I feel no heat.  However, I see the teachers in a slight panic to get the students out of the building and into safety. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I see an old adviser, J.Abratique directing students what to do.  As I pass by her she tells me to secure the safe contents.  I went straight to where my classroom should be.  By the window of the hall, across my classroom, three medium sized safes stood unaffected.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As part of my student council responsibility, I had to secure the treasures inside the safes.  I had the key in my skirt pocket.  I opened the safes and started to take all the watches inside of it for safety.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;J.Pineda (another classmate from Camella School) squat beside me and whispered something.  But I could not hear him because of all the noise that surrounded us.  In my frustration, I gave him the car keys, thinking that as soon as I secure all the safe's content with me, he'll drive meto a safer place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We hear a car security system open, I look at J.Pineda and he looks back at me innocently.  J.Abratique approached me and tells me to lock the car as they heard it open, too.  I tell J.Pineda to lock the car.  He shows me the key I turned over to him does not have a car security remote.  Only the key and the ring remains.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, J.Pineda clutches on to the key and jumps our of the window.  Leaving a stunned J.Abratique and infuriated me behind.  The watches was never their target.  It was the car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;______________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FIREDRILL, in real life, is a practice to stay alert even in the middle of a routine.  Something needs my attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Old classmates -- I'm not sure if it's some things in the past that needs my attention, or I just need to see my old classmates.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Former teacher -- seeking advice for my impending new life. Yeah, makes sense. (surprisingly, she's now the guidance counselor of my old shcool)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Emptying a SAFE of WRIST WATCHES boggles me.  I think I'm trying to keep a lot of activities to my own when I should be delegating.  I should listen to Id (still has no name).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Losing the car-KEY may mean I'm losing confidence in myself or I'm not seeing the point. Or maybe, I've let go of an opportunity that may been brought me to places.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;I'm starting to forget the second dream, so I have to write it quickly.  Moving on now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-3201852499805885872?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/GwqfC3sUtfk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/3201852499805885872/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=3201852499805885872" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3201852499805885872?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3201852499805885872?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/GwqfC3sUtfk/high-school.html" title="High School [Part 1]" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/high-school.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkADQ3wzfyp7ImA9WhZUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-5726718713034152153</id><published>2011-06-12T01:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T01:52:52.287-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-12T01:52:52.287-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Uno- the Hang-Up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*a story made for me to finish*" /><title>Boarding House</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WLkjB8hMebAwVHKKJ5spO4gY66I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WLkjB8hMebAwVHKKJ5spO4gY66I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WLkjB8hMebAwVHKKJ5spO4gY66I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WLkjB8hMebAwVHKKJ5spO4gY66I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;When I woke up this morning, I planned to write this down immediately.  But because I had to turn on my computer and brush my teeth and wash my face -- by the time I sat in front of the computer I've already forgotten I was supposed to write this.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the details won't be as clear as the other dreams.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boarding_house" title="Boarding house" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Boarding House&lt;/a&gt;.  It's a big house, with numerous rooms -- a mansion converted into a coed boarding house.  Each student (yes, student) have a room each.  As I played the role of the Boarding house assistant, my room was right beside the TV / communal room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, who comes in as the newest student to live in this boarding house? &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazunari_Ninomiya" title="Kazunari Ninomiya" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Ninomiya Kazunari&lt;/a&gt;. (yes, this is another Nino dream. I rarely dream of anybody else.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nino is a student from Japan, but he's also Nino from Johnnys. He is also the son of Filipino, and hence, he can speak the language and he's here because he was sent here to study.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's amazing in this dream is -- before I went to sleep, I made a promise that I'll never react the same way to Nino as I did to my past loves.  That is, put the friendship first and let him go without asserting my feelings.  I promsied myself that I'll put my heart out there for him to keep or let go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, in the dream, I reacted the same way.  Keeping my feelings for Nino a secret.  Keeping my obsession about Arashi a secret. Playing the jealousy game (I cannot remember who the guy in the dream was, he was another student-border living there).  Getting rattled up whenever he asks me to do something for him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then, there was the matter of me denying signs that he likes me, too.  Just like Uno. The only difference is, Nino wasn't subtle when showing his frustrations to me.  He'd slam doors or totally ignore me because he's pissed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh in the dream, I also sold "my" &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gundam_model" title="Gundam model" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Gundam model&lt;/a&gt; kit and a Bushido figure.  The money received was 160 Singaporean dollars and few change.  Ian and Myna was also there in the dream.  They seem to be the owners of the house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each and every symbol I could remember in this dream pertains to my attitude in love relationships.  It's a warning, I tell you.  NEVER EVER REPEAT THE UNO INCIDENT!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=5066f6f3-d84a-4af0-86df-43a77079893d" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-5726718713034152153?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/YIgM0J-IdPI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/5726718713034152153/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=5726718713034152153" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/5726718713034152153?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/5726718713034152153?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/YIgM0J-IdPI/boarding-house.html" title="Boarding House" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/boarding-house.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cFQXc-eCp7ImA9WhZUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4239752188874555240</id><published>2011-06-05T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T01:56:50.950-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-12T01:56:50.950-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="★ Dimples Romana" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Oguri Shun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="★ Angel Locsin" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Mario Maurer" /><title>A Crazy Little Thing Called FIRST LOVE</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EeU9K-7wmA4lSiKyqCi9X7LjgiE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EeU9K-7wmA4lSiKyqCi9X7LjgiE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EeU9K-7wmA4lSiKyqCi9X7LjgiE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EeU9K-7wmA4lSiKyqCi9X7LjgiE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday's hoohaa about "&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Love_(A_Little_Thing_Called_Love)"&gt;First Love (A Crazy Little Thing Called Love)&lt;/a&gt;," as broadcasted by &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.abs-cbn.com/" title="ABS–CBN Corporation" rel="homepage"&gt;ABS-CBN&lt;/a&gt;, caused a raw nerve and eventually in my dreaming state, my bestfriend Id (I should really give him a name) has challenged me to come up with something like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course there were still some symbolisms involved, but as a whole, this dream gave me a complete story, and so I'm going to forgo the analysis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dream was like watching a Filipino movie -- starring, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mario_Maurer"&gt;Mario Mauerer&lt;/a&gt; as the real love interest, &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shun_Oguri" title="Shun Oguri" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Shun Oguri&lt;/a&gt; as the guy in between, and &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_Locsin" title="Angel Locsin" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Angel Locsin&lt;/a&gt; as the girl making her choices.  So we shall call the characters by their actors' names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Angel was just your ordinary, tomboyish high school girl -- a female clown in class, a valued member of the girl's basketball team after.  But like any ordinary high school girl, she has insecurities that keeps her from telling the guy she is crushing on that she likes him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so she asked for help from her best friend -- &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimples_Romana" title="Dimples Romana" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Dimples Romana&lt;/a&gt; (don't ask, probably caused by her Lobo stint).  Dimples set out a plan to get Mario's attention and to get him in the end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But unlike all the other movies, her make-over was that of a duck to a swan.  As Dimples had said it, Angel is already beautiful enough that's why she gets the attention.  What she needed was personality make-over, so that Mario will see her as a lady and not the class clown.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Montage.  Angel helps with the student council promotion of campus cleanliness and preservation of nature, her basketball games, and being a lady instead of being a clown (OMG -- by the time I'm writing this sentence, I've started to forget the details).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't remember what happened, that got Angel in trouble and she was punished to do community service -- helping clean up and guard a WWII underground ruins that was just discovered recently.  By pure luck or by just coincidence, Mario was an archeology geek and volunteers in guarding the dig as it goes through some court proceedings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is where they become close and where things got complicated.  Because they have become close, Angel could not break his trust and tell him she likes him (sounds familiar).  To Angel, confessing her feelings is like severing the friendship she already built up with him.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shun comes into the picture.  Dimples devices another plan.  In the guise of helping Angel be closer to Shun, she makes Mario jealous of that relationship -- forcing him to assert his own feelings and fight for Angel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the plans were to give Shun a gift that Mario would appreciate more.  Dimples sent one of her minions to do it (The actress seems to be one of my former college classmates -- We're not close and we haven't spoken in almost 10 years).  Shun passes by the archeology site to give his thanks to Angel personally.  A full set of &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.onepiece.com.au/grandline/" title="One Piece" rel="homepage"&gt;One Piece&lt;/a&gt; (blame this on the rumors of &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazunari_Ninomiya" title="Kazunari Ninomiya" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Ninomiya Kazunari&lt;/a&gt;'s gift to &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nozomi_Sasaki_%28model%29" title="Nozomi Sasaki (model)" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Sasaki Nozomi&lt;/a&gt;).   Raw nerves were stricken.  Mario was jealous.  But he, too, was playing the I'm-not-going-to-break-this-friendship-just-coz-I-like-you-game.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After winning a basketball game, she caught Mario and Shun fighting.  Distressed, she ran to the arch site as it has become her sanctuary.  Both boys ran after her, but only Mario had clearance to pass the site.  In a futon they've set up inside the site, Mario found Angel lying down.  He lied down beside her.  He wanted to put his arms around her, but decided not to.  She wanted to wrap her arms around him, and tell him she loves him, be she just can't do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the heavy stone doors of the arch site closes -- the two are trapped.  And that's when I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a side story, the archeology site seems to be where a Japanese soldier left his treasure.  A group of greedy people were trying to trick people into letting them into the site just so they could get that treasure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;___________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No analysis.  I just refuse to analyze this one to keep me from having a heavy headache.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=b26e1c2d-ca05-4fc7-9186-c6c5f70973be" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4239752188874555240?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/Nw0apbh0FOY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4239752188874555240/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4239752188874555240" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4239752188874555240?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4239752188874555240?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/Nw0apbh0FOY/crazy-little-thing-called-first-love.html" title="A Crazy Little Thing Called FIRST LOVE" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/crazy-little-thing-called-first-love.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMMSX46fip7ImA9WhZUEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-87185960593467026</id><published>2011-06-03T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T22:14:48.016-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-03T22:14:48.016-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="band of brothers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elbi peeps" /><title>Nino's Goodbye Girl</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jG3NfKNPwea3F40R-txns88GZeI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jG3NfKNPwea3F40R-txns88GZeI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jG3NfKNPwea3F40R-txns88GZeI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jG3NfKNPwea3F40R-txns88GZeI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Nino and I were in front of the computer checking blogs, checking &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.plurk.com/" title="Plurk" rel="homepage"&gt;Plurk&lt;/a&gt;, checking &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://twitter.com/" title="Twitter" rel="homepage"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt;, doing all the routines one now does with the computer -- only here, there were a lot of flirting involved.  While reading a site, he suddenly pulled me out of the house telling me he just remembered he's supposed to show me something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was rushing me to put on my shoes, though he was just wearing a simple black thong slippers -- the likes you wear just around the house.  I hurriedly put on my red suede slip-on flat loafers while he was closing the door and giggling over the panic that he has caused in me.  I kept on telling him, I didn't have the house keys on me, twice.  But, I guess he wasn't listening, because he locked the door, anyways.  When the door was closed and secured, when I was done putting on my shoes, I asked him, "Do you have the key?"  He looked at me as if he was expecting I had it.  A moment of silence.  Then he said, "Daijoubu, daijoubu" and then pulled me away from the house in a hurry once again.  He said, we'll ask Kervs to take us in.  And I just responded, "Kervs? Why Kervs?"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked a couple of blocks talking about random things, laughing at the most inane stuff, mostly flirting -- like a couple of high school lovers.  He was holding my hands all throughout, not letting me go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we came across a community park, we cautiously entered.  There were a couple of men there.  With his hands still clutching mine, he approached the smaller of the men, and said, "Sumimasen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old bum faced us and started screaming at us.  Nino pushed me back, his grip of my hand tightened.  We were both scared by this, but he remained poised.  As we back off, we almost bumped into the taller man smoking a cigarette.  Nino and I both shrieked in surpise and the man just looked at us with irritation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recognition enveloped me slowly.  I realized, the taller man was my brother, Christian.  Without any other reaction, trying to be as polite as I always am in real life, I introduced Nino to Christian as my boyfriend.  Joseph, my other brother came running and asked Christian what the screaming was about.  Christian just pointed me to him.  So I said hi and introduced Nino to Joseph, too.  In my dream-life memories, I introduced him as Nino because it was easier to remember for Filipinos and it's it's better they know him by that name than his given one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left my brothers and we walked aimlessly in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After walking a few more blocks, and talking about my Care Bears birthday cake when I was younger, we found ourselves in Kerv's house.  He took us in, and let us sleep on the floor.  When I woke up, Nino was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angry, depressed, insecure and almost crying -- I composed a text message for him.  In the end, what I sent was -- "I wanna sleep beside you.  Where are you?  I wanna go to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kervin wasn't there.  But, Pao J. was, and a few other people I didn't even try to notice.  Pao was telling me how he plans to deliver that huge &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Care_Bears" title="Care Bears" rel="wikipedia"&gt;Tenderheart Bear&lt;/a&gt; plushie to my address.  I wasn't listening, I was looking through the window waiting for Nino to respond to my text message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A van stopped in front of the house, a young boy stepped out followed by a few other people, and then Nino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The youngest boy found his way upstairs and started talking to me.  I was politely chatting with him.  I wasn't sure if he was Nino's nephew or little brother.  Then Nino sat down behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was mad.  I asked him, "why did you leave me without telling me where you were going?"  But, I didn't let him answer. "I don't want that to happen again.  I can't take that.  I've been left by people while I was sleeping.  They never came back.  My dad did the same thing, my ex did the same thing ..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He interrupted me and said, "But, I'm here.  I came back."  And his family was waiting downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not own a red suede slip-on loafer shoes.  I never had a Care Bears cake for a birthday.  None of my ex left me while I was sleeping.  Only my biological father did.  I guess, I was more affected by that than I claim to be not.  &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;Nino does not have a younger brother. I'm not sure if he has a nephew already.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I had just declared that Sho is back to being my ichiban to replace Nino who is very much in love with Sasaki Nozommi right now (if rumors are true).  But I guess, I can never fool myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the analysis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am currently not speaking terms with my brothers.  Up until I woke up, I didn't know what Nino said he was going to show me.  Only in my waking life did I realize it was my brothers he wanted to show to me.  Should I see them one last time?  My pride would not let me.  They are the ones who don't contact me, then it is up to them to find me.  Besides, I'm not the one who has issues with them.  enough with the TMI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shoes indicate approach in life.  So how do i approach it? RED, with lots of passion and intensity.  SUEDE, soft exterior, tough construction (people who know me, know this well of me).  SLIP-ON FLAT &lt;a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slip-on_shoe" title="Slip-on shoe" rel="wikipedia"&gt;LOAFERS&lt;/a&gt;, easy to put on, comfortable, flexible, can be used in the in casual, office or dinner settings.  So why is my Id reminding me who I am?  connect my sibling situation with my personality.  In the end, I'm as filial as any other true blue Filipino girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday cakes -- though it wasn't physically there and was just talked about -- mean dreams, ambitions in fruition and openness to let others in your life.  In MY life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Care Bear Pao J. is trying to send to me is my insecurity about moving away from my comfort zone.  It's like my Id is reassuring me that even from across the pond, my friends will be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my Id has started to use Nino as a representation of itself.  Everything else seems to be self explanatory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://s5.thisnext.com/media/230x230/Fitzwell-Callie-Red-Suede_55AEFED7.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 230px;" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;EDIT&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;i&gt; friend Chelli corrected me and said the shoes i dreamed of wasn't loafers but ballet flats (like that pictured on the right).  However, if you look at it, it doesn't really change anything much.  The meaning is the same as a loafers.  Unless you can tell me something new about Ballet Flats that I don't know about.   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"&gt;&lt;a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"&gt;&lt;img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=a98eff19-db36-4d54-98b6-154697c07159" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-87185960593467026?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/YTDdEjJ0cvo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/87185960593467026/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=87185960593467026" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/87185960593467026?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/87185960593467026?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/YTDdEjJ0cvo/ninos-goodbye-girl.html" title="Nino's Goodbye Girl" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/06/ninos-goodbye-girl.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcESXo4eSp7ImA9WhZQF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-3156219103501811171</id><published>2011-04-24T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T22:40:08.431-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-24T22:40:08.431-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ohno Satoshi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Los Banos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Sakurai Sho" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*retrospect*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♫ Arashi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Aiba Masaki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Matsumoto Jun" /><title>[REVISIT] First Appearance of All 5 Arashi</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fMdLPK1cIOLQdFlknioTMytC3FM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fMdLPK1cIOLQdFlknioTMytC3FM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fMdLPK1cIOLQdFlknioTMytC3FM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fMdLPK1cIOLQdFlknioTMytC3FM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;meta equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;b&gt;THIS WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED IN AIBAKALAND&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Posted: Sat Jun 06, 2009 6:34 pm &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;i don't remember if i have posted my dreams here before ... but i do dream about them quite frequently ... most especially, Nino.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;However, I'll just put in the latest one, a few nights ago. 6th dream of what started last April -- before April I had 0 Arashi related dreams.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;All five of them and I were on a trip to see a family -- one of theirs. When we reached the house, they made me push the doorbell. When I looked back they were at a distance. Aiba-chan went to buy a bottle of local beer in the convenience store 2 house away from where I was standing. So did Sho. MatsuJun, Nino and Oh-chan bought non-alcoholic drinks. I went after them, leaving the lady who answered the door behind. There was a few minutes chat. Then Sho-kun pulled my hand and decided that it's time I meet this family -- but none of them would tell me whose was it. Nino pulled my other hand as MatsuJun pushed me by my shoulder. Then Nino put his arms around my shoulders, so I put mine around his waist while my other hand was still holding Sho's. I looked behind me and found MatsuJun closely behind me, his arms around Oh-chan and vice versa. Aiba was walking behind them with his bottle of beer.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;I never really understood the dream. Then again, what's there to understand?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-3156219103501811171?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/wBge6m5tINM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/3156219103501811171/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=3156219103501811171" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3156219103501811171?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/3156219103501811171?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/wBge6m5tINM/posted-sat-jun-06-2009-634-pm-post.html" title="[REVISIT] First Appearance of All 5 Arashi" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/04/posted-sat-jun-06-2009-634-pm-post.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMHQns4fyp7ImA9WhZQFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-7523466369485118036</id><published>2011-04-24T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T18:53:53.537-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-24T18:53:53.537-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*IRL memories intact*" /><title>Nino and his Butai</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3-l24p0-bA89GpnRTTprhriCCws/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3-l24p0-bA89GpnRTTprhriCCws/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3-l24p0-bA89GpnRTTprhriCCws/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3-l24p0-bA89GpnRTTprhriCCws/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As usual, even in my dreams, I was running late.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nino was holding a stage play at Palma Hall, UP Diliman as part of a cultural exchange. An online friend and I had agreed to see the play together and was meeting her at the venue of the play.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I arrived, it was already in the middle of the play. Nino was throwing a very long monologue. There was nobody else on the stage. I immediately sat beside the online friend, avoiding sentences that needed to use her name.  Even in dreams, I couldn't remember names of those I just met.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked my online friend how late I was as I took off my jacket.  She said that I missed the whole first act and how awesome "our baby" (Nino) was.  I brushed it off and told her that it was ok since I was going to see the play again on another day with my fan-girl friends, I just wanted to be there ont he first day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The auditorium was almost empty.  There were just the two of us in our row, and around five others scattered around us.  When I looked up at the balcony, all seats were occupied.  There were five girls in their Poveda uniform at the corner seats right above the door, so I thought, must be a school requirement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I looked back at the stage, Nino was looking at and then gave me a salute, to which i responded with a salute as well.  But, then, halfway to my salute, I realized, it was part of the play, and that he couldn't have thrown me a salute, for he didn't know me (sometimes, in real life, I forget I'm really not married to him LOL).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I watched intently as the monologue continued, despite not understanding the lines -- it was in Japanese. He looked at me several more times, and I felt a funny feeling like he knew me.  I brushed it off again and again, thinking he couldn't. At the end of the monologue, he walked off the stage and headed for the door I used to enter the auditorium.  I guessed it was part of the play, but the five girls suddenly jumped up and started screaming fan-girl shrieks, calling out "Nino! Nino!"  They were so excited, and I was so out of it, I hadn't realized the lights were already on and that the intermission had started.  Before going out of the door, he gave me one last look and disappeared behind it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My online friend told me that the 3rd act would be a short one.  She, then, excused herself to go to the comfort room.  I exchanged pleasantries with the other audience as if I knew some of them.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A little boy, the son of the woman in charge of the play, came rushing to me and started clinging to me.  As his mother was busy, I took it upon myself to play with him and keep him from wreaking havoc in the auditorium.  When he touched the microphone by the stage, the microphone burst out a feedback.  It wasn't a loud feedback, but it was still annoying.  I grabbed the little boy, tried to take him back to the seats as the audience started to take their seats as well.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lights dimmed, the play was about to start again.  I was still dragging the boy to his mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, the light completely went out and I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Auditorium or lecture halls --like that in my dream-- meant that I'm to learn something and that I need to pay attention.  Watching a play meant I need to draw inspiration from others.  It may also mean that I'm going to have pleasure in the company of new friends.  But I always have new friends, so I'm more inclined to believe that I need to pay attention to something.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being late can mean two different things for me.  Either I'm apprehensive about this very late change in my life or that I'm psyching myself up that it's better late than never.  The exhiliration of seeing Nino in person up close (at least in my dream), made it worth it even though I'm late.  I wasn't worried about being late either for I could see the play again another day.  So I'm leaning towards "better late than never."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The microphone means I need to voice out my thoughts.  This has something to do with family issues I'm going through right now.  I have been silent these past five days.  I want to say something, but I'm afraid that if I do, it'll just fan the flame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The naughty little boy, I can't figure out.  Who is this boy?  It sure did bring out my motherly instincts. But, what does he represent?  Why was he clinging on to me so much?  What is he keeping me from seeing, like the way he kept me from seeing the 3rd act of the play?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First time I'm stumped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-7523466369485118036?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/_Wi4JNgCRdY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/7523466369485118036/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=7523466369485118036" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/7523466369485118036?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/7523466369485118036?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/_Wi4JNgCRdY/nino-and-his-butai.html" title="Nino and his Butai" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/04/nino-and-his-butai.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUERHg4eCp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-876361387125918520</id><published>2011-04-08T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:03:25.630-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T23:03:25.630-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="protection of the womb" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="eaten in and out" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Squal - the ex" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="facing myself" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elbi peeps" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Las Pinas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bullies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bullet" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="*cinematic*" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fire" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="go with the flow" /><title>Another Post-Apocalyptic Dream</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_fIdAGrsb8Le184RxU96-ja5W6I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_fIdAGrsb8Le184RxU96-ja5W6I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_fIdAGrsb8Le184RxU96-ja5W6I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_fIdAGrsb8Le184RxU96-ja5W6I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A hodge-podge of dreams, one even with a post-apocalyptic theme once again.  And this time, it's as vivid as a movie on your TV screen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~oOo~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was back in Camella, where I was bullied from elementary to high school.  But, here, instead of being bullied and being manipulated by the cool crowd, I was the one doing the bullying.  It seems that the boys and the girls were separated into two class. In the girl's room, one of my close friends was bullied by James Pineda. So I went to the boys class with a bottle in my hand, and took a seat behind James.  None of the other boys hindered me, they were scared of me.  I taunted James, with Jeffrey Padilla beside him.  I threatened him without actually saying threatening words. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Ms. Joey came to hush the class, James and Jeffrey told on me.  They kept on accusing me of bullying from behind Ms. Joey, I denied every accusation.  Being good with words, I argued that I didn't say anything to threaten them, I argued that they just assumed all threats when I was just asking them how they were.  Ms. Joey left me off easily.  With a smug on my face, I left the classroom to return to mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~oOo~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were told of an exciting experiment, with an unknown results.  But being young and adventuristic, we wanted to know how it would feel to do the experiment first hand.  So, with two of my close friends, did some crime, hurt the feelings of a beautiful young girl, and went straight to the basement of the school to do the experiment.  The formulation of the bath was weird, it contains formaldehyde and an unknown liquid that our Science teacher gave to us.  After making sure that we have followed our teacher's precise instructions on the consistency of the formula inside the earthen jar, I immersed myself.  But, the other two boys suddenly pushed my head down as if to drown me. After a few seconds of struggling, I blacked out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I came to, the whole basement was a mess.  Everything was scorched and scattered all over the floor.  Even the earthen jar I came out of had scorches.  I tried to control my dizziness and struggled to walked towards the light from the door.  The bright light of the sun greeted me.  There was no building above the basement anymore.  Only ruins of walls.  Across the door where I came out, there was a shanty that looked like a small ruined wooden sail boat, where a young girl was looking back at me.  The face vaguely familiar, took me a few seconds to realize she was the girl we bullied before doing the experiment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then suddenly, people came out from the boat, one of which was my Science teacher. Rejoicing my return, they pulled me inside the boat and led me a community underground where they bathe me, and clothed me, and fed me.  As the others danced and sang, the Science teacher explained to me that I have been out for quite sometime now.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~oOo~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My teacher brought me to a mall that connects to the underground community.  People were staring at me, recognizing who I was.  We ran across Homer and a girl I'm supposed to know.  Homer was shocked.  My teacher and I walked more, telling me just get whatever I need and he'll pay for it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The girl who was with Homer ran to me with Ryan Toledo behind her.  Her eyes were begging, and I didn't know what to do.  Then she talked to Ryan, telling him that I was an old friend.  Ryan looked at me, and said he doesn't know me, but he kept on talking about things I can't understand.  I realized, Ryan, not only had lost his memories, he had already lost his mind.  Feeling pity and guilt, I tried to make him remember things about me, relating to his fears.  But, he realized I was lying, that I was tricking his brains into remembering me by associating my existence through other things he remembers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ryan ran off.  The girl followed after him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Science teacher said, that Ryan wasn't the only one who became like that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;~oOo~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On an SUV, we travelled all the way to Las Pinas.  They said I needed to go and meet somebody.  The road we travelled on looked so strange in my eyes.  The buildings and plots beside the road were unfamiliar.  There was a resort being built, with water slides dumped on one spot waiting to be put together.  I told them, this was not the Las Pinas I once knew.  One of the girls, we were with, told me that the resort was the newest project of the man who gave their life again.  The man, made sure everyone's scorched skin, were operated on.  However, the Man, had been dictating what the country and its citizens would do.  With me, the survivor of the catastrophe without having any help from the Man, they would be able to topple this restrictive government.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We stopped at a busy rows of karinderias, where cabs were lined up and their drivers having lunch.  My Science teacher went up to one of the cab drivers and converesed a little.  The walked back to the SUV together wary of their surroundings. My Science teacher opened the back of the car and left it open as he settled himself in the driver's seat.  The science teacher gave me a bill and told me to hand it over to the cab driver subltely.  The cab driver took something out of his cab's trunk and placed it inside our car.  I shook hands with the cab driver, passing on the bill subtely.  He closed the back and smiled at me as car drove on.  I watched him grew little as we moved forward, and I watched him as he exploded and burned. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A riot suddenly started.  Gunfires could be heard everywhere.  The cars before us stopped moving.  My Science teacher put the car in reverse trying to get away from the riot as fast as possible.  I saw a man in front of the car aiming a sniper at us, and I watched him pull his trigger.  Frozen in place by shock, I felt the bullet went past by my ear and lodge in cushion of the back of my seat.  As the whizzing sound of the bullet passing beside my ear reverberated, I vaguely heard my Science teacher say to me, "you could have been dead if you weren't so God-damn lucky."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;___________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bullying is a sign that I'm being too agressive in a part of my life.  What part, I'm not sure.  Maybe, I'm over-compensating for all the bullying I received when I was child, that now, I'm running with my false-bravado in full throttle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the earthen jar had protected me from the devastation in the apocalypse, it symbolizes my need to be protected like a baby in a womb from the fast approaching change in my life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The girl in the boat is the other me.  It only means I've finally learned how to be honest and express my true feelings.  That, I know what to say now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As much as people were staring at me in the mall, is just as much as I want my arrival to be celebrated.  Same with the people rejoicing upon finding me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The waterslides indicate that I'm letting this change guide me without objection or resistance.  Probably because I'm done resisting it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The taxi drivers eating may indicate that I'm being eaten by this change alive, despite not resisting this change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The burning man seems to mean that I'm blinded by my own ambition, consumed by it. And that also represents the ambition I have burned a lot of people with.  It's just a reminder that I can be consumed by this ambition even after the great change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bullet seems to be a warning, I will have to bite it and accept the difficulties that lie ahead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-876361387125918520?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/T6BdSG1IaJk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/876361387125918520/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=876361387125918520" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/876361387125918520?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/876361387125918520?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/T6BdSG1IaJk/hodge-podge-of-dreams-one-even-with.html" title="Another Post-Apocalyptic Dream" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/04/hodge-podge-of-dreams-one-even-with.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcAQ3cycCp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-4615828030417818698</id><published>2011-04-05T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:00:42.998-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T23:00:42.998-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rat race" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="flood" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="leechers of energy" /><title>Swept Away By Flood</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HPdEFWDIFuxYuVnRRiKrra-m8h0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HPdEFWDIFuxYuVnRRiKrra-m8h0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HPdEFWDIFuxYuVnRRiKrra-m8h0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HPdEFWDIFuxYuVnRRiKrra-m8h0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't just that I was swept away by flood.  The flood, was instantaneous like it was a tsunami that hit us.  It was high, too.  I remember being brought up to the second floor of a building.  And, it was extremely filthy -- rats and leeches stuck to us as we were all swept away.  They were biting my legs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The flood, eventually, subsided and we were saved.  There were three of us fished out of the flood.  But, I was the only one wearing a dress.  One of the other two girls said she thinks the things floating with us had bitten and entered us in some way or another.  Something happened to us during that flood.  It was, as if, we were violated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up here.  It was around 5am.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I went back to sleep, the dream setting was sort of post-apocalyptic.  But, I cannot remember everything once I opened my eyes.  I remember thinking about Arashi as I would in my waking life.  So, I thought, it was kind of realistic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;____________________________________________________ &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flood has always meant that I'm deep in debt in my waking life.  I've always been deep in debt.  I cannot remember a time I was debt free anymore.  However, for this past year, I have not had a dream about floods.  And for a couple of years now, the floods in my dreams had never went past my ankle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe this was caused by the rent's notice I read last night.  Usually, it's only 10k more or less.  This time, because we forgot to bring in our continuation request to the apartment's administration office, it was a big red 12k on the rent's notice.  PLDT bill was also pinned on the cork board.  So many bills to pay, so little money.  Especially after Singapore trip.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rats biting me probably was a manifestation of how I liked to have worked in Singapore.  The current ulitmate arena for the rat-race.  I have half the heart to find work in Singapore.  But, why is it dirty?  Is a part of me repulsed by the idea?  Because the leeches also indicate repulsion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wish I could remember the dream after that.  That could have had the key to this mysterious dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-4615828030417818698?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/4sOPwCsuOeg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/4615828030417818698/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=4615828030417818698" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4615828030417818698?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/4615828030417818698?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/4sOPwCsuOeg/swept-away-by-flood.html" title="Swept Away By Flood" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/04/swept-away-by-flood.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIHR348fCp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-8907325602140727010</id><published>2011-03-30T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T22:52:16.074-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T22:52:16.074-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="$ex" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="babies" /><title>Monster Husband and his 6-Year-Old Nth Wife</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-_Hnjm2ImMrnd5TDqdmOaMYDag0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-_Hnjm2ImMrnd5TDqdmOaMYDag0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-_Hnjm2ImMrnd5TDqdmOaMYDag0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-_Hnjm2ImMrnd5TDqdmOaMYDag0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because we're leaving, there were always some food to pack, to bring along to the travel.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was married, to this head honcho.  He's gorgeous.  But, he's also a monster.  A literal one.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He may have married me, but he married several other wives, too.  The most recent of whom, is a 6 year old child.  Or so I thought.  I was angry, a little jealous of the girl, and worried of the frailness of that body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On her first night, while she occupies the main bed, I stay in the lower bed and wait for my husband to disappear into the night.  I was deadset on protecting the girl, even if I have to be punished for it.  I jump to the other bed, ready to hush the little girl in case she cries at the sight of the monster.  The monster husband doesn't like crying little girls.  He devours them, like all mosters do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the husband came back from his monster form to mist to his gorgeous naked human form, I covered the girl with my body.  But, he was stronger and he just pulled me away from her with one hand.  However small his package was, he was still strong and powerful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I offered myself so that he wouldn't have to touch her.  But, he still did.  Then the little girl threw up.  The monster husband told me to clean her up, and the bed afterwards.  I asked her what was wrong, and he answered for her.  She's pregnant, he said.  That can't be, was my only response, to which he answer, she's old enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was the first time I heard the child speak.  She said to me, it's ok, my body can take it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I carried her to the bathroom, cleaned her up with the help of another wife.  Third wife, if I remember correctly.  All throughout while I was giving her a bath, I was thinking of how to take this child away from the monster husband.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then, there were more food packings to be done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_______________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are new concepts to me and so I had to look them all up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Packing food, hoarding for the trip means, I'm scared of this SG trip I'm embarking on.  I'm insecure because I don't have enough money and I'm at a lost how I'll get through. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I looked at the monster husband, I see a naked form, but I wasn't aroused.  My thoughts were still on the child and how to protect her.  I didn't care about him.   So when I looked this up, they say it meant that I needed to learn how to be not afraid of rejection.  Last night, I had a moment when I felt I was rejected.  I guess, my unconscious is telling me to end this insecurity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seeing someone vomit means someone is taking advantage of me and lying about it.  But, I have not had any interaction with a lot of people late.  I am only surrounded by most trusted ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saving a child means saving myself.  What am I trying to save myself from?  What or who is this monster husband?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-8907325602140727010?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/14tKji4lgWg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/8907325602140727010/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=8907325602140727010" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/8907325602140727010?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/8907325602140727010?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/14tKji4lgWg/because-were-leaving-there-were-always.html" title="Monster Husband and his 6-Year-Old Nth Wife" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/because-were-leaving-there-were-always.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMBSXcyfip7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-2333780168193569227</id><published>2011-03-29T16:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T22:50:58.996-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T22:50:58.996-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Squal - the ex" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="$ex" /><title>Taguig Ho House</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2YsRwm3TkMr7N_ldHcCDgzps50/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2YsRwm3TkMr7N_ldHcCDgzps50/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2YsRwm3TkMr7N_ldHcCDgzps50/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a2YsRwm3TkMr7N_ldHcCDgzps50/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Taguig house is my grandfather's house.  However, in this dream It was MS &amp;amp; IS's house where they let me stay for free in exchange for my services, I even have my own room.  What kind of services?  At first I thought it was just being a servant of sort, house cleaning, house sitting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Taguig house kind of looks different, however, in my dream's memory, it's the same house.  Across the hall from my room, Squal stays, along with the other guys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was a little randy and seeing Squal there, I thought, hey maybe I can get some from him.  It's a bad idea, being my ex, and I didn't want to stir up old feelings and confusion, when all I needed was sex.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a few getting away from chores he was doing, I was able to pull him inside my room.  He happily obliged -- a little smug, too.  At first, I started small talk.  I asked him why JPM moved out of this house long before I even thought of moving in.  He pulled me to sit on his lap, I started kissing him, and in between kisses he answered me.  "He can't handle the job here," he said, "No one's forcing us, but in the end, it's much easier that way."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I understood immediately, we offer sexual services and we have our own rooms for that purpose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up and I find nobody else in my bed.  So I went out of my room and find that the whole house was having a general clean up.  I called out to Squal and asked him to explain some things to me.  I couldn't remember what happened, did something happen between us or not? Apparently, I blacked out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before he could stand up and approach me, NY grabbed my arms and pulled me to the side, asking me, "Where those cats I heard last night, or somebody finally getting some?"  A flash of memory of last night's tryst came to me.  It looked wild.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I blushed.  Not because I'm ashamed of what I did, but more because I was embarrassed for being noisy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt Squal's strong hands pulling me away from Nick.  He was a little peeved.  I couldn't understand why he was peeved.  He dragged me down the stairs and out to the front door.  Before we could exit, we find a room's door ajar and there one of our supposed housemates were giving a Chinese-mestiza woman a service.  And the woman is obviously very happy about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went out and Squal explained to me that I blacked out.  But before he could say anything else, I went back in the house, curious of the quick clean up and the ongoing service.  When I went in, IdlC and her husband were already cleaning up after our fellow member who had walked the woman to her car.  Semen were all over the pillows.  IdlC was nagging.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the realization hit me.  It's true.  Question now is, should I stay or should I go?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;___________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Squal was an amalgam of Squal and Nino.  He has Squal's face, but his demeanor was so Nino.  Upon waking up, I was a bit confused as to who really was in my dream.  The hair was very Nino, though, as well as the smug face.  The suave actions he also did is so not Squal -- like the way he pulled me to him and the way he grabbed my arm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently, sex with an ex in dreams mean embarking on a new situation.  Once again, the immigration thing comes up, I guess.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We learn something new everyday.  Or in this case, every night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-2333780168193569227?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/WOeuaS4FCW4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/2333780168193569227/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=2333780168193569227" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/2333780168193569227?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/2333780168193569227?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/WOeuaS4FCW4/taguig-ho-house.html" title="Taguig Ho House" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/taguig-ho-house.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIHR348fip7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-2628567166639668105</id><published>2011-03-29T00:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T22:52:16.076-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T22:52:16.076-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="babies" /><title>A Crying Baby on the Day of My Immigration Medical Exam</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z8QlSAOBPPmBCif3N7MGEXUlrFc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z8QlSAOBPPmBCif3N7MGEXUlrFc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z8QlSAOBPPmBCif3N7MGEXUlrFc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z8QlSAOBPPmBCif3N7MGEXUlrFc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Because I woke up super early today, and that distracts me from recalling my dreams, it was only when I was riding the cab to the hospital when I remembered that I had a dream.  I could only remember flashes of it.  You know how in the movie trailers, they flash scenes with accompanying sound effect of heartbeats?  That was how I remember it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a baby again.  And SHE was my baby.  And she was crying.  Bawling so loudly.  And I couldn't make her stop crying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my dream's memory, it was the child I had with Nino.  But, maybe my non-dreaming mind had already altered that, so I'm not gonna count that in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know it's all about this immigration thing.  Babies, starting anew.  Starting from scratch.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But why was she crying this time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-2628567166639668105?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/M_c3yANxaOY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/2628567166639668105/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=2628567166639668105" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/2628567166639668105?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/2628567166639668105?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/M_c3yANxaOY/crying-baby-on-day-of-my-immigration.html" title="A Crying Baby on the Day of My Immigration Medical Exam" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/crying-baby-on-day-of-my-immigration.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8MSHszeip7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-9159484051179195006</id><published>2011-03-27T23:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T22:58:09.582-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T22:58:09.582-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Sakurai Sho" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♫ Arashi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poop" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♫ SMAP" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♫ Big Bang" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Matsumoto Jun" /><title>Crapping in Front of Them -- Not a Beautiful Thing</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3IZFZOFeBYAcHDZLm2nHFplq7A/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3IZFZOFeBYAcHDZLm2nHFplq7A/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3IZFZOFeBYAcHDZLm2nHFplq7A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/v3IZFZOFeBYAcHDZLm2nHFplq7A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nino was there again.  He was my classmate.  There was a school fair.  Arashi -- my classmates -- where going to perform as a front act to upper-class men SMAP and popular kids in school Big Bang.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I was ill.  My digestive system was throwing a fit again, as it always does.  The classrooms have their own toilets.  That was where the guys were changing their clothes.  I had to use the toilet, and they let me.  Problem was, they let me use it while they were changing.  MatsuJun was actually surprised to see me doing my thing, but after looking at an indifferent Sho, he changed his clothes in front of me.  He knew that I wasn't paying attention to him anyways, and that I was waiting for Nino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After getting out of the toilet, the girls in the class were already making message boards for Arashi's performace in the school fair.  They made me write something on it.  I remember writing a long message for Nino with a silver pen.  They were teasing me about my very obvious crush on Nino.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I missed the performance because of my illness.  When I came out again, MatsuJun and Sho were gone and Nino was back in his school uniform and SMAP was performing while Big Bang was preparing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My illness got worst.  My stomach pain grew.  The girls in the class were already getting worried.  Leanne329 suggested that they bring me to the hospital.  But the other girls couldn't carry me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nino volunteered to help me get to the hospital.  I was so excited despite the pain.  The thought of being in his arms filled my mind and is only disrupted by the sporadic bouts of cramps. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He went to the school's administration office to get permission to go out of the school grounds and bring me to the hospital.  The other girls were there, too, as well as the teacher.  When he came back, I couldn't take it any longer so I ran to the nearest toilet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, the toilet was so filthy.  Each bowl was filled with feces.  In fact, even the floor was littered with feces.  So I stood above one bowl and let go there.  At the same time, I started vomiting pinkish stuff. Old ladies, probably faculty, came in and ignored my condition.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I woke up after the vomiting stopped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;__________________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Feces usually means money.  My feet touched some of it.  Would that mean I'm going to have some money?  The abundance of it, does that mean I have multiple means of getting it.  But since I didn't touch it, does that mean I'm the one refusing it?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or was my mind affected by my real digestive system?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vomiting means letting go.  What do I have to let go?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is Nino always in my dreams?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-9159484051179195006?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/DzfbsIkCvW4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/9159484051179195006/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=9159484051179195006" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/9159484051179195006?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/9159484051179195006?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/DzfbsIkCvW4/crapping-in-front-of-them-not-beautiful.html" title="Crapping in Front of Them -- Not a Beautiful Thing" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/crapping-in-front-of-them-not-beautiful.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQEQnk_fyp7ImA9WhZTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-1634786452399627281</id><published>2011-03-23T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T20:28:23.747-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-23T20:28:23.747-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="candles burning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mommy dearest" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="guardians" /><title>Candles and Old People</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YYlGrm5-ktesoQ-sQTQROqTnhok/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YYlGrm5-ktesoQ-sQTQROqTnhok/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YYlGrm5-ktesoQ-sQTQROqTnhok/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YYlGrm5-ktesoQ-sQTQROqTnhok/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I couldn't remember much this time.  I only remember the details. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we watch darkness unfold from our window, we were trapped in one house with all these people I don't know.  My mom was there, an old grouchy grandpa with a cane, an old loving couple, a girl friend, and a young man of about 15.  It felt like that there were more coming, and that we weren't the only ones living in the house.  In my memories, I seem to be married.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a mug, with a big fat candle inside it in real life -- it was there in my dream and it seems to be wearing out already.  The candle has burned off the wax and all I can say was, "you have served us well."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were running out of candles, and I was trying to make those we have at hand work for the night.  The old loving couple borrowed one -- the woman was going to help her husband to the bathroom.  I gave them the mug with the big fat burned off candle.  It was easier to use than any of the others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was trying to make one thin candle stand inside a jar.  But, as I tried, it snapped into tiny pieces held only by its wick.  My mom was telling me to let it go.  We'll get more candles in the morning.  I told her, we need it now, as I tried to fix it up with a magic tape.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;____________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Candle meaning?  It seems like I'm sexually repressed, and that I have too much ideas and have too much activities going on and that I'm letting go of something important to me.   It's breaking me apart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah, yeah.  Still the USA fears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The old loving couple, is forgivness and wisdom that I shall be having when I grow older.  Meaning?  I don't need to hurry. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh the grumpy old man with a cane, he's one of my guardians (guardian angel or guardian spirit). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-1634786452399627281?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/4bWoYK4XT0A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/1634786452399627281/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=1634786452399627281" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/1634786452399627281?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/1634786452399627281?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/4bWoYK4XT0A/candles-and-old-people.html" title="Candles and Old People" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/candles-and-old-people.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIHR348cSp7ImA9WhZaEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11308488.post-6723706345077833827</id><published>2011-03-21T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T22:52:16.079-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-25T22:52:16.079-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ohno Satoshi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="♥ Ninomiya Kazunari" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="babies" /><title>MOTEL -- Ohno (Part 2/2)</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8VbXDxxFQar-_JrUo1N8rZtpHtM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8VbXDxxFQar-_JrUo1N8rZtpHtM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8VbXDxxFQar-_JrUo1N8rZtpHtM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8VbXDxxFQar-_JrUo1N8rZtpHtM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Usually, when I have a dream so beautiful -- or so sexy like the &lt;a href="http://goo.gl/vDKU9"&gt;previous one&lt;/a&gt; -- I go back diving in, gambling on whether I could really continue the dream or not.  Sometimes, I do.  Most of the times, I end up in a continuation, usually with a huge time gap.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And because It took me quite some time to finish part one, my memory has already degraded and had forgotten how the dream started as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;__________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Duds and Pax came to the house.  It was raining outside.  They were with Ohno.  Ohno was tired so I let him sleep in the bedroom immediately.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I heard Duds and Pax laughing and giggling while doing it in the bedroom, I was crying my eyes right outside.  Even in my dreams, I was depressed.  I was depressed because I couldn't be with Nino, and I was missing him terribly.  I knew he was at work, I knew I shouldn't be this depressed.  But, I couldn't control the emotions, especially when I can hear someone happy, and I couldn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Duds barged out of the bedroom.  I jerked up and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, trying to hide my swollen eyes and my wet face.  Duds brushed her hair right beside me, intentionally not mentioning that she can see how swollen I was.  With every brush of her hair, I took out hair from my mouth, as if I was choking on hair ball.  When she finished, and as I was removing the last hairs in my throat, she faced me and told me -- "you can have all my hair. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I stared at her and thought for a moment what that meant.  Our stares were cut short by a text I received, someone told me Nino's on MTV as of this moment.  I ran out and grabbed the remote control from Pax and turned to MTV, but the show has ended.  It was Ryusei no Kizuna's Ariake trio in Florida beach for a promotion, and all I got to see was the ending credits and glimpses of Nino between Nishikido Ryo and Toda Erika. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I'm angrier than depressed.  Angry at Duds.  Angry at Pax for not turning to MTV quickly.  Angry at Nino for not being there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I turned around and I see the bedroom door still ajar.  So, I thought of taking a bath to cool off.  I was grabbing my green towel when I saw Ohno and remembered I had made him sleep there.   I apologized to him, more so if I had woken him up rather than putting him in the same bedroom as the couple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I apologized bowing down.  That's when I noticed a baby staring at me with big round eyes -- lying down on the floor, behind the bedroom door, right beside Pax's big blue bag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I smiled and got excited.  I tried to pick up the baby, but as he rolled over and over trying to crawl, I couldn't control my laughter.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ohno, then, asked me "Is he Nino's?"  I smiled.  I nodded.  I picked up the baby who took all my depression away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;_____________________________________________________&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Obviously, this was a continuation but it's like at least 1 year after the last dream, as the baby is just starting to crawl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt better after waking up this time.  The baby really did made me feel better.  Babies usually mean significant change in lifestyle.  Probably, this was brought about the conversations about immigrations last night at dinner.  Mind you, my dream-universe baby with Nino -- uber cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Distinct things: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other than the baby, that hairball was interesting.  I need to find out what that means.  I was also distinctly taller than Duds, which I noticed as we were facing the mirror.  And that brushing of teeth and hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The brush Duds was using, yellow and huge.  The bed covers Ohno wrapped himself with was a red flannel one.  Pax's blue bag from college.  My green towel again (but then, IRL, all my towels are green but one).  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that crying.  It was really emotionally draining. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11308488-6723706345077833827?l=highpriestessdek.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~4/bTGAOCc5DNM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/feeds/6723706345077833827/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11308488&amp;postID=6723706345077833827" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6723706345077833827?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11308488/posts/default/6723706345077833827?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/faeriesAndDemons/~3/bTGAOCc5DNM/motel-part-22.html" title="MOTEL -- Ohno (Part 2/2)" /><author><name>Kelzie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11051620901512797829</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NJWibZzzCIc/TG6494VLsbI/AAAAAAAAAFs/OaE_aNI-9Vk/S220/40433_418720013860_531183860_4915720_5756933_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://highpriestessdek.blogspot.com/2011/03/motel-part-22.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

