Fighting For It

This is just gonna be where I post all of the poems that I write on here. I also put them on my dA (Cenitopius.Deviantart.Com) and my Facebook for those of you who already have it. This series would probably have been called 'A Little Bit of Poetry' if it weren't for the fat that Fighting For It (101) was so descriptive of the whole series in it's name that I had to use it here as well.

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17. Dream Theory and Me

Y'all probably already know that I love psychology, right? For a lot of it, there's no amount of evidence other than that it works. There's also no evidence against it, and there's also no really supportable theories against it, so it's more about who's around you and how they work themselves than a constant that always works.

Having said that, I don't myself take much to dream theory, since the whole idea of it is that different objects could mean different things, since at the same time an indifferent variable like a backdrop colour that you wouldn't remember could imply sarcasm which would flip the whole dream on it's head when it comes to meaning. I don't think they're really much but electric signals shooting around inside the pre-build neural systems in your brain, taking the routes that offer the least resistance as electricity does. That'd even explain why we every now and again roll about in our sleep, since from what I can tell, those of us who move about more in our sleep are generally more energetic than others. By that rule, common processes would have less resistance, electronically. By that theory though, there's another dream theory, and that's that whatever shows in your dreams is often the things you think about most. I think this is probably more accurate to my situation, but I don't necessarily believe it.   You see, as I mentioned a while ago, I've been dreaming, and not about anything productive. I figure that since there's no-one here I want to hide anything from, there's no reasons not to tell, and to be honest it's the kind of thing that's better when it's in the open. See, I've been dreaming, and not about anything productive - the subject of my dreams is a person, and I don't say 'dreaming' in the sense of a metaphor or a joke. Once every few weeks maybe, I can remember a dream, and so far each and every dream I've remembered has been completely centred around this one person. Each time, every other person involved I never knew or saw, and I can't remember a single person's face; all but one. And I don't even mind since it's the only face I'd care to remember, since it's the centre of the dream, but I'm circling.     The first of the dreams was simple; A kiss. Me and the person I spend as much time with as I can, and we're no-where, because there's nothing but white in our background. We're stood in what I'm sure is rain, but I can't see the raindrops. There's nothing other than the two of us in sight, and she's talking. She's telling me about something that happened to her, something bad, that upset her. I ache on the inside as her lips form hate for the recent event and I try to reason with her. It falls backwardly to her paranoia in believing that she's not worth anyone's time to them, and I burn on the inside as I tell her that I take all the time I can to talk to her and to be with her, and she says to me that it's me, and I'm one person, and my heart falls as I think to myself that I'm not enough. She pulls into this line of thought and won't move back to the inside lane, and so I lean in and steal her lips. She doesn't fight it as I pull her into my embrace and it's a good day, and gold blooms through my body as the happiness takes over the dark, and I let it flow through me and let it out through my mouth, hoping that it might make her happy. The dream ends as our lips are pressed together and she's gone.   Naturally a dream showing such intimacies between me and a friend raised questions in my head, and I consulted a few different people. I hated the fact that there were no options in the case of a response. I look up dream theory and make myself apt at it, finding each thing through an online dream dictionary, the rain, the kiss, the conversation, the friend, the white, the gold, the kiss. I made of it exactly what I was told by everyone else I asked - I was in love. I didn't fight the diagnosis, I just didn't believe the doctor came to it through the right means; Everything I read on dream theory was too vague to call accurate, and I decided that all it was was a dream, and whatever interpretation I took from it was valid so long as the dream it's self wasn't evidence.     Other dreams, between then and now showed similar content. The kiss happened numerous times, almost exactly the same each time. Now something else has shown up, and I just want these dreams to come true. I'll explain my latest dream - last night was the first instance of it.   We're sat with friends. I don't recognize the faces and there may not have been any actual faces at all. The world was a sketch on a notepad, each line appearing penciled in like a small comic plan, no faces filled in and no colour, all but on her. She was literally the only beautiful thing in the world, because the world was black and white and every shade she was was simply magic, and she looked no different that when I saw her the other day. Our friends are around us, and I'm sat on a table. There's no detail past 5 metres away from me, and thins are lightly filled in when I lean towards them. She's sat on the table right in front of me, uncomfortable, shifting about. Her friends laugh at something she says, and I smile as I see her smile. I will for her attention and she turns to me as I wish she does. She's listening for what I know I'm going to say, and I say it without knowing it, and I say "Y'know you're sat on the table even though you could be sat on me." She stands and moves onto me, and I hold her steady on my lap. She's as weightless as I know she really is, and the scene is beautiful. She turns to talk again and the dream closes on me, just the same as in the first one, and all the ones in between.     You see, I've been dreaming. I'm not as shy as I dream myself to be, I just moderate myself to fit the situation. I'm not as daring as I dream myself to be, but my will and my limits aren't in the right order. I'm not as romantic as I dream myself to be, because I'm twice as gentle and caring, half as selfish as to ask of her to leave her comfort zone to enter something else just so I am in a better place. But god knows I've been dreaming longer than that all shows, because god himself knows that I love her twice as much in real life as in a mere dream.   This isn't just an entry, this is the art of dreaming, of waking up, and how to know the difference between them.
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