Last night: chase dream, through a dark wooden middle school with a lot of elevators and unused basement areas. I'm not sure who was chasing me and I'm not sure who I was running with, but it wasn't scary. Chase dreams have been uncommon for me since about age 14 and, when I do have them now, they're never too frightening and they never cover a lot of ground. Childhood chase dreams took me all over the place and involved a lot of leaping and diving and hiding under houses, and the consequence of being caught was, like, soul-loss or eternal imprisonment or abduction and torture or something. Now it's mostly hiding around the corner until I have a minute to cross the street into that theater... I hardly ever have to move more quickly than at a brisk walk.

    The larger nightmare is the vision, slowly coming into focus, of how getting older ruins many things. My chase dreams are sucking because, for example, I'm no longer scared that my parents and peers might be aliens evilly biding their time until that right moment comes to grab me by the wrist and extend their fangs and induct me. Not having that fear means a much lower intensity. And I'm not running top-speed in these dreams anymore because to run top-speed would probably mean dislocating something or falling and suffering once-negligible scrapes and bruises that would now have me wincing and cursing as I waited three times as long for them to heal.

����Tedious considerations, however. Let us draw up my will!

����Here is an interesting presentation on hormonal activity, and here is the Facebook profile I was recently pestered into reviving.


0 Comments