Last Week: I am walking to Santa Barbara along the beach, but am pretty far from the waterline. I look into the sea and there are hundreds of people surfing. I look away towards the highway for a few seconds just taking in my surroundings and when I turn back there is a huge wave crashing over me. As it peels back there are surfers flying over my head, hundreds of feet in the air.
Last Night: I took the 405 (and drove a stake down into your center–haha nevermind the deathcab reference) to Long Beach. I pass a golf course that is suddenly one of my favorite places in the world and I smile nostalgically. There is a stretch of freeway that is magically along the ocean. I am overcome by happiness at the ocean filled with hundreds of people and the golf course and I look back at the greenness, look forward, and suddenly there is a huge wave crashing over the freeway. My car rides the wave but as the wave peels back there are surfers flying over my car, hundreds of feet in the air.
WHAT THE HECK?!? I have never cared about my dreams but I have no idea where these are coming from or why I apparently am subconsciously scared of big waves and flying surfers plunging to their death.
Ehhhh!
And on that note, my healthy dose of lyrics for the post:
well take me, take me back to your bed
I love you so much that it hurts my head
say I don’t mind you under my skin
I’ll let the bad parts in, the bad parts inwhen we were made we were set apart
life is a test and I get bad marks
now some saint got the job of writing down my sins
the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
Chillax, my friends. The storminess somehow seems appropriate! And yeah.
