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[14 Dec 2008|09:29pm] |
All I want is for things to go back to how they were.
I woke up at noon today in my hotel room, I slept all day after speaking with Lucy at an ungodly hour here. I found myself lying to her, some stupid excuse to stay longer that I didn't even believe. I just can't understand why this is happening to me.
And before anyone says anything, I've read all the comments, all the stories, all the things everyone else has shared. But unlike others here I have yet to have more detailed dreams or 'memories' as their calling it than that of flying, and the blond man with the blonde woman.
The dreams aren't what's bothering me though. It's the... feelings. Like there's an energy inside of me that's prickling every nerve and it won't stop. It's feels like the things my kids told me they felt like when they were using. It's a rush and addictive, and I feel that if I can not make it stop- or control it... I may die I don't know what will happen.
Adam stared at the page, he would have torn it our and thrown it away if he thought it would keep the others inside his book from seeing it- but he didn't think it would. Perhaps this was his cry for help.
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[27 Aug 2008|10:23pm] |
Adam had been in town for three hours and already felt relaxed. He'd drugged up for the plane ride, but the sleepy pills had worn off by the time they'd landed and he was forced to pay the five bucks for the tiny bottle of alcohol to get him through the landing. Now that he was on solid ground, and checked into the hotel (for which he felt guilty for using because it way paid for by his fiancee) he felt relaxed- or was getting there. There was no need to unpack, he'd only be there a short while, he dumped his luggage into the closet and fell back onto the bed. Ahhh...
Ok, so there were a few things that needed to be 'unpacked'. He didn't want to have to worry about them later so he got back off the bed and fished out those things that needed to be hung up to keep from wrinkling too badly as well as all of his toiletries. Among the good smell stuff and toothpaste ziplocs Adam found a book- a journal. "Bizzare." He slipped it under his arm and filled up one of the little hotel cups with water and returned to the bed to take a better look. It was inscriped with his name. "Oh, Luce." It was probably a journal to record his trip in, she did say she wanted to know everything that happened. It was quite sweet of her.
Of course as he sipped his water and investigated inside the journal he found that he may have been wrong about the travel journal. What the first entry said, 'people' talking of being crazy, strange dreams, bizzare feelings...
Wow... just wow. If I had stumbled upon this book a year ago- hell not even a year ago- I probably would have thought myself a loon and locked myself up like the kids I work with but... wow, I'll say it now, I'm a believer. Or at least I think I'm open to be one.
Past few months- a bit over half a year- strange things have been happening. Strange dreams are things that we all have- everyone, trust me on this. It's the subconsious messages they send you that are in question. Like when they tell you to go to clubs and pick up... anyone and experiment in ways you've never-
When you know you're not crazy but you still do crazy things... then what are you?
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