ew, dreaming.

I don't really like dreams all that much. They're so, for lack of a more descriptive word: powerful.

And therefore capable of deeply regressing one's emotional progress. You've moved to a new city and started a new phase of your life, you're feeling productive, and then you dream of bad nostalgia. You think you've stopped thinking about someone and that's when you have a beautiful, wrenching kind of dream about that person. Someone died a year ago and you've stopped crying? Time for a surreal re-enactment!

So there you go. I hate dreams.

Here's to waking life, reality. It's not so overrated, really.