Baby I woke up crying last night just realizing you were gone.

Suddenly I regret my choice of subject line lyric, in part because of bizarre accuracy.

I was having this dream, where someone was lightly tugging on my sleeve to get my attention, and I was telling them "just a minute" and when I turned to them, they needed my help and I was gently berating them for not communicating to me sooner that it was so serious and they told me they didn't want me to worry and than they stepped behind me and kissed my back which was strange enough to wake me up and realize that a non-dream person was kissing my back and leaving my house because of insomnia. I followed her into the hallway and she stayed after I offered melatonin. I know she fell asleep eventually but I'm not sure how restless the rest of her night was since she's still sleeping now.

I should be on a train on the way to work but instead I'm about to shower and typing this because, the thing is, I can't shake the rest of my dreams. I had kids. At least two or three of them, though I feel like the third was nephew or niece who I adored but wasn't techinically mine. I can't remember all the details of the dream but most of it was spent with them, talking and playing and making them food and driving them around.

Then I woke up before the alarm. Experienced typical dream-waking dysphoria. Confused as to the day and time and who I was and what just happened. Waking life started to seep in.

Then my heart just sank. Like I lost my kids. I couldn't get them back, they were gone, no way to contact or find them. In these few short hours I became overwhelmingly involved in their life, falling madly in love with them.

Don't get me wrong, I like kids in general, I'm pretty good with them, and I'd like to be a parental figure in some form in the future, but I don't have heavy concrete plans. So this dream is an atypical experience for me.

Is it weird to say I miss them?

Hey, what did we learn today kids?

From the past couple days, I've discovered:

1) Several people in my life, not necessarily related, are on a Twin Peaks renaissance, specifically the part where Agent Cooper tapes messages to Diane. It's contagious. On the train this morning I said jokingly in my brain "Diane, I dreamt that my subconscious had children. Remind me to look into birth control at the imagination pharmacy."

2) If white liberal guilt is one side of a coin, the other side is "black people love me!" phenomenon.

3) Last night I watched Talk to Her and the night before I watched Punch-Drunk Love. While I'm a big fan of interesting quirky weird beautifully-filmed fcked-up character type movies, seeing too much of them suddenly makes the movie Bad Boys II look appealing.

4) I supposedly chose the name "Raymond" randomly, but later many connections to the name from childhood started to surface. Last night I realized that my DJ name of Boywonder (and drag name of Wonderboy) came partially from Roy Hobbs's bat in The Natural. I had forgotten that connection. I know the name DJ Boywonder implies a strong Batman and Robin influence, but I really don't have one.

5) I love baseball movies and know way more about the game and its history than I thought, but I don't watch baseball games at all nor do I have any team affiliations (no matter how often I wear a Yankees cap).

6) If you buy the As Seen on TV album called "Totally Hip Hop", you can dance around the room and pretend you're at one of my Kingdom Come gigs at Circuit. Seriously. I play two-thirds of those songs in my mix. I'm not sure if I'm flattered or embarassed.

All day long, singing the same song

I bored Lowenstein at lunch with talk of work minor problem drama, but sometimes I get overly excited about random non-important topics because I have energy that needs funnelling and if I don't make a conscious effort, it will take the first available outlet, even when it's not worth the time and energy. Sometimes I just need validation that I _should_ be doing something more, I _can_ be doing something more, and soon I _will_ be doing something more. And that's something that stupid work drama certainly accomplishes. I remember in the weeks before quitting both bookstore jobs, I'd get really obsessed with minor issues with co-workers and managers.

I just had deja vu while typing that.

My stomach has been churning a lot today and while I teasingly blamed from NX and Lowenstein for their stories on inedible fat in a truck and gory pro-life signs, respectively, it's not really true to put it on them. Strangely enough, I'm still shaken by my dream. In the middle of smoking a post-lunch cigarette I got hit by the wave of emotion again, but didn't want to mention it aloud and keep talking about it. So I resort to just writing it here again. Too much attachment. Let it go.

I need a siesta. Instead I will try to sit with my hatred for my job, because hate is better than apathy, and perhaps I can channel the anger and energy into accomplishing tasks and helping time pass more quickly.

Or maybe I'll just go back to writing my story.

On multiple meanings; Or, deciding to run away from home, even for a few minutes.

When do i get to hear your happy growl again?

Soon, I hope.