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He will
not be afraid of the destructive act: half the house will have to
come down. This way he will grow virtuously into wisdom. 02-07-01 I had an interesting dream the other night. It was very vivid, very real, and very sexual. I was with this group of people on a sort of white river rafting thing. It seemed to be a ride of some sort, where you'd go down this river and then walk all the way back up and do it again, as if you were at a carnival or something. The entire time, I was right behind this girl who I thought was very cute, very sexy. I remember thinking, in the dream, how much I just wanted to grab her from behind and touch her and feel her and everything. And I knew I couldn't do it. so trip after trip I'd be right behind her and aching, knowing I couldn't just go up and grab her, because you can't just grab people whenever you want just because you want to especially if you're a girl and you want to grab another girl, and in a sexual manner. I didn't know how she'd react, what would happen. I was afraid. I remember this very clearly, wanting to touch this girl and knowing that I couldn't. And then...the dream became lucid. I realized I was dreaming and that I could in fact do whatever I wanted to her. It was a dream. It was MY dream. So I did. I walked up and slid my arms around her and my hands started sort of massaging her breasts and that was it. That was all I needed. I was off into a very nice, very fun, very explicit, very sexy dream. It was cool. I loved that turning point, when I realized it was a dream. I was so happy, in this dream, because that meant I could have what I wanted, I could have this girl. It was really great. I would like to make a note here that I am not a lesbian. We had a big snowstorm the other day. Lots of snow, everywhere. All of this snow--it makes me think of Jeff. Snow always reminds me of him. I don't know why. We're reading a book for one of my writing classes called "Half the House". It's a very good book, a memoir written by this guy that teaches at Emerson. Very moving, very powerful stuff. So I'm reading it on the train into school this morning and I get to the part where he's sexually molested by his coach, when it all begins. Now my teacher told us ahead of time that this was in the book and I thought it would be okay, I was waiting for it happen, I was ready. But I wasn't ready. Reading this man's account, I don't know...it made me so tired, so worn out, all of a sudden. I felt like I'd been hit with sack of bricks. I was sitting on the train and I started crying. Then there was the nausea and I couldn't throw up but I wanted to and the train finally got to Boylston and I got off and went to the bathroom and was sick. After that, I did not want to finish the day. I wanted to go home, I wanted to go far away, I didn't want to be there anymore. But I went on with my day anyway. Because I had to. Because that's what you do, everyday, you just keep on doing what you do. If you don't then all you have left is this overwhelming sadness that eats away at you. I don't want that. I don't want that at all. But I feel ... I don't know. Something has to give. I don't know what, but I can feel it, I feel the strain and the pressure and the pull, everything inside of me fighting to keep it together. I hope this isn't the way I have to live the rest of my life. No more turmoil, that's what I want.
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