baaa.

Last night's dream:

It was late.

An unknown friend [who we can call...Jacob] and I were walking along the water's edge, the moon's reflection glimmering off of the ocean's surface. The waves were gently crashing onto the shore, and the cool breeze teased my hair.

I tightly pulled my jacket closed and asked Jacob, "Where are we going?"
"As far as the shore will take us," he said, eyes staring straight ahead.
"Well that's quite a long ways, don't you think?" I replied, with a hint of worry in my voice.

It was obvious I didn't like the idea of this. Perhaps it's a fear of not knowing the absolute, or having a solid answer to grab onto. I'm generally one for surprises and spontaneity, but something about this evening's relaxing calm told me this wasn't right.

"Then it looks like we have a long way to go then, don't we?" he replied with smug grin on his face, this time turning to face me.
"Hehehe," I gulped, "I suppose so." Either Jacob did in fact know where we were going and wasn't telling me, or he was really intending on aimlessly walking forever.

I was unsettled at the thought of both possibilities.

I'd struck up conversation about several things, mainly to get my mind off of the uneasy feeling in my stomach, and for a while it worked. We'd talked about nerdy computer games, then fitness and dieting, and the irrelevance between the two.

He'd asked about my classes, and the women in my life (or lack thereof). It was nice to talk. Mile after mile had passed, and I barely took notice that the sun was peeking its head out.

Before I knew it, the water's edge had long since faded away and we came upon a clearing in a patch of woods. Tucked within the clearing was a small cabin.

"We're here," said Jacob, with a look in his eyes clearly suggesting that he'd been here before.
"What is this place?" I asked as I closely observed my surroundings, that uneasy feeling creeping its way back.
"My grandfather built this cabin years and years ago. Cool, huh?"

It certainly was cool. Considering it was built by his grandfather, it appeared to have held up really well over the years, almost as though it was built yesterday. It was undoubtedly the work of a true woodworker.

We entered the cabin; it was comforting and spacious. A small, dusty old couch and a few beds inhabited the main room, and some worn pots and pans rested on the counter-tops in the warm kitchen.
"Ah, I see. Yeah man, very cool" I nodded, impressed with the exquisite craftsmanship.
"And up until last year," he choked, "my dad and I used to come up and spend the summer here." Jacob fiddled with a stick he'd picked up off of the ground.
"I'm really sorry about your dad, Jacob," I consoled him.

I struggled to think of any other way to cheer him up, and he could tell.

"Heh," he chuckled. "It's okay. It was fun while it lasted it, but it got boring after a while. But you wanna know what I've never done before?"
"What?" I asked.
"Walked here! To be honest, I didn't think we'd actually make it!" At this point, he was almost literally in tears from laughter, amused at my frustration and sore legs, which I hadn't felt until now.

"I hate you," I scolded as I playfully punched him in the arm.

We hadn't spent more than ten minutes in the cabin, when there was a sudden knock at the door.

"Uh, who else knows about this place?" I asked Jacob, this time, that uneasy feeling creeping its way back into my stomach.

I knew I had a reason to feel iffy about this whole thing! I thought.

"Well, other than my family," Jacob pondered, "I can't think of anyone else."

We both quickly rushed to the door and opened it up, to find a charming, harmless looking fellow.

"Howdy fellas, I'm Paul!" the man exclaimed. Paul had a young face; the kind of face you'd see on a young Hollywood actor. His straight posture and bright smile could have taken him a long way in such a business. Despite his good looks, he was dressed in typical "lumberjack" fashion, which I found humorous, considering his name was Paul.

"Hey..." Jacob cautiously replied.
"Sorry guys, I don't mean to intrude, but I was just passing through and I couldn't help but notice this fine piece of architecture you've got here," Paul explained, almost too enthusiastic for his own good.
"Well, thanks." I could already tell by the tone in Jacob's voice that he was annoyed this strange man's eerily jubilant vibe.
"Who here is responsible for building this?" Paul asked.
"My grandfather, but he doesn't live here anymore. I'm curious though; how'd yo--"
"I'm quite the craftsman myself," Paul interrupted. "I could show this grandfather of yours a thing or two, if you'd like," he said as he pulled an axe out from behind him.


DEAR GOD. I'm going to die, I thought, as I looked around the room for a possible exit strategy.


"No thanks, that'll be quite alright," Jacob rejected.


He was too late.


In the blink of an eye, Paul had turned around and begun hacking his way through the woods with his axe. I was stunned by the speed and efficiency at which he did this, but I couldn't help but question WHY THE F*CK HE WAS DOING THIS.

I felt as though I was watching one of those "strong man" competitions on ESPN. The rate at which he chopped down tree after tree with ease was very impressive, and judging from the look on Jacob's face, I couldn't tell whether he was pissed off or in awe.

Paul turned to look at us, with a big goofy grin, and axe in hand. This man had singlehandedly destroyed a forest with his bare hands and for as far as I could tell, he was thrilled about it.


"You boys hungry?" Paul asked.
"NO. WE'RE NOT HUNGRY," Jacob retorted.

Paul ignored this; once again, in the blink of an eye, the entire pile of wood he'd chopped down was up in flames along with...


...sheep.



As the sheep roasted in the massive fire, I could distinctly hear the sound of "baaaa."

And they continued to "baa" long after they were "cooked."

The End.


~/~

Having withdrawals.

From a number of things.

Ugh.



I've also been half-slacking on my eating habits.

Is junk food included within these withdrawals? Maybe.

Perhaps not "withdrawals," but definitely cravings. There's certainly a lot of temptation. My mother bought a ton of sweets and snacks for my niece to dig into for the next two weeks, so I'm blaming that. I've decided that I'm going to use this week to get all of my junk food cravings out of the way.


I think I've deserve that much. Hell, I'm eating a Pop Tart as I write this.


I've been doing more of that night-driving again. [Why do I do that?] I think too much, and I think it's a relaxing way of clearing my mind; being out on empty back roads, late at night. Maybe I just need to get out of the house more.


It's turned out to be a therapeutic waste of gas. While I was out driving, I had an undying craving [there we go again] for Combos, so I stopped at a 7-11 and picked some up, along with a cup of coffee. After eating 3 or 4, I couldn't even recall why I wanted them so badly. They tasted somewhat awful, but I continued picking at them anyway because I didn't want to feel like I wasted my money, considering 7-11's inflated prices [for convenience, I'm sure].



Someone told me the other day that I needed a hobby.


This is false. I have hobbies.


I just haven't had any interest in them as of late.


Here's what I have been doing though:



What started off as a simple letter and become what is apparently a chronicle of my life story is done, so now the impatient, but charmingly seductive recipient can stop her complaining.


Hmm.



Off to bed.


Oh, and I lost my favorite pair of sunglasses to the great ocean today.







I want to cry.



love. peace.


P.S. Katie Grant, thanks for your interest in my scattered brain. I've told you before that your voice is a godsend, but is it okay to remind you once more?


<3