As a small child…

Maybe writing about one of the dreams I had this morning will get my mind off of again wanting to delete everything and just…

This is post #74, not counting the “Freedom” one that was deleted some time ago.  Heh, even freedom in a post isn’t free.


(school bus interior)

It was lucid dream— the kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming.
I was small child in form; I had my adult mind (or close enough).  A different child altogether— a different person.

There was that routine of walking from the school grounds, followed by finding the right bus, and at the last moment.  Some of the other children may have missed their chance.  Doors close, vehicles drive off.  Without catching any numbers (like randomly picking any of them), the doors to one of the two remaining buses opened for me.

And then there was that finding a seat, but there were no problems, socially or otherwise.  I chose to sit in a seat already occupied to a degree— such smallness of the children.  The depth was a little weird— three children could fit a seat, and that number felt standard.

The dream was vivid enough that I could just pull out my graphing calculator, and browse through the menu, with very consistent results.  Knowing I was dreaming, I continued scrolling, testing things.

But still, like all dreams, there were elements that were completely unreal; it took consciousness to realize how several items I came across just don’t exist in the real world I experience.  There were several programs and features I didn’t add to the calculator.

Then, something happened, to which several of the children, including the one already sitting in the seat I chose, went toward the right of the bus to look.  It would be that “in the moment,” where the adrenaline or difficulty to imagine woke me up before I could catch any sight of what had happened.  But it wasn’t quite like that.

The math nerd I am, I instead went on testing the fast mathematical abilities one would have in-dream to perform routines that aren’t easy to do on paper, let alone in-head.  The kind of thing I did during an exam… in English class.


10 thoughts on “As a small child…

  1. Throw back to the graphing calculator. I hate when you think holy shit I am the best at math EVER only to find out or know the entire time it was just a dream.


    1. Well, math in-dream is never reliable—digits change inexplicably.  So it’s not great, actually looking.  Too fluid to perform those square roots—and I’ve done that awake, in-head too many times… exactly what killed that English exam (and added to summer school): sqrt(6).  Thoust doth suck. (I suck.)


      1. I think thoust means you… or is it thine? English blows in a school setting…. analogies make me very angry. Fuck English (jk jk). I’m sorry you had to take summer school. 😦


      2. Yes, thoust is the archaic of ‘you.’  But ‘thine’ means ‘my’ (perhaps relative to German ‘mein’).

        Summer school is what I get for incompleteness.  Literally.  An incomplete mess.


      3. No, I was wrong.  I’m horribly pedantic.
        ‘Thine’ is a possessive closer to ‘your.’

        American Heritage Dictionary:
        thine (pronoun): Used to indicate the one(s) belonging to thee.
        A tu- derivative, related only to thee, thou and thy.

        Mein has no relation to thine, but is related to my/mine, Old English mīn (same pronunciation).

        …Mein apologies.


      4. Right like to thine own self be true… to your own self be true. You should have let me wander the world believing that thine meant mine. People would be oh so confused. Years ago I wrote some letter apologizing for being a jack wagon and I looked up apologies in French, what came up was desole, so for years in my head I think Petite Desole (little apologies) but I am sure that is completely wrong.


      5. Désolé means only ‘sorry.’  The word for apologies is ‘excuses.’  Plural makes the expression “Mes excuses petits.”  I am Google translator is good at French.

        Funny if “my little apologies” comes off as “my little apology objects,” like apologies on note cards.


      6. HHAHHAHA that is too funny, since the person I was giving the little apologies to always had excuses. He called me out on it once, when I did something I had reasons, when he did something he had excuses. Apparently that translator I used knew of us and our stupid little quibbles and my little apologies were merely excuses. DAMN YOU INTERNET WHY ARE YOU SO SMART?


Thoughts? Reply:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s