Insomnie's Xanga

My Scariest Nightmare - The Uninvited Contest

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 07:07:02 GMT

I was in a mansion. It was dark and there were hallways. There were two parallel hallways running down with rooms at an even interval; it was cold and dead. I remember being lost, but my dream self didn't seem to have a problem with it at all.

I walked around to the other hallway and found that in the other hallway, there was a Hispanic maid, maid-ing the rooms. She asked, harshly "What are you doing here?!" And I don't remember answering. She was so normal, and there was a light around her. Why didn't I stay with her?

I wandered into a large, and main room. There was a single television there, and I watched people mutilated and mutilated on the screen. The picture was black and white.

I felt uneasy. I was going to go back to the maid, but something was in my way. It was a person, and I'm bewildered to say that it was a hobo. He looked... distant. And he walked closer and closer to me, his eyes were dark and hollow...

He reached out, and grabbed me and held me up and I woke up.

Not my usually groggy wake-up. As in, my dream self was about to scream. I opened my mouth and I was about to scream and I felt such horror. I remember this, and taking one final look at the hobo, I took in air, and my eyes just opened. I saw my room's darkness, and I felt the air still in my throat.

I remember that afterwards, I drew a picture of the hobo, and his image is clear in my mind. Because of that last look.

I just blogged about my scariest nightmare to enter The Uninvited Scariest Nightmare Contest for 1,000 credits. You can earn free credits too! Brought to you by The Uninvited - In Theaters January 30th.

Flip-flops.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 01:43:37 GMT

My parents (and mostly my brother) like to say I flip-flop my opinions of food. All the time.

This makes me so angry. I don't.

Just now. My dad was listing the foods he ate for lunch today. My brother quipped, "Shannon would eat half of that! She hates that." And my mom says, "Ha-ha-ha. Yeah. But the things you listed, she would eat more than usual. She'd eat [food item #1] (something I mildly like), she'd eat [food #2] (something I am neutral about, I would eat this if I was hungry), wait, but she hates [food #3] (something I really like to eat).

"Wait," I say, "I like [food #3], though."

"Oh, now you like it," says my mom. And she rolls her eyes and mutters something about how I change my opinions.

God-damnit. Maybe you wouldn't have some a retarded joke about me if you noticed that when I refuse something I generally like to eat, I say that it's because I don't feel like it. Or because I am already full. Not that I change my opinions.

And speaking of that. My family can't seem to make up their mind about me, either. They keep telling people I'm very picky, and that I eat very little. Then, a minute later, they say that I eat so much, and that I eat five meals a day.

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Summer Classes

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 07:23:38 GMT

Taking Philosophy and Psychology is hard work.

After a while, it's hard to keep them apart. My friend and I were just taking part in a vigorous AIM debate (not very vigorous, really) about whether or not the rising gas prices and global warming relate to the analogy of the cave.

Today was my second day of class.

My Hopes

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 22:39:47 GMT

A teacher had the unfortunately annoying habit of getting my hopes up, again.

I wanted to take Physics Honors next year, but my counselor said, "I don't think so." and was adamant. She said, "Only Juniors and Seniors can take it--no exceptions!" And the head counselor just yelled at me. The prerequisite is Advanced Algebra, and I'm going to take that next year (same time as Physics Honors) anyway.

The work load is light in that class. My brother and his friend do the homework in the car (and finish). They say an eighth grader (with the knowledge of what sine, cosine, and tangents are) could pass the class.

So my brother talked to the teacher for me. And I met with her. She said that I could take the class as long as my math and science is good, currently. She said she'd talk to my teachers and counselor.

Well, I went back to her today, and she told me that though my teachers say I'm an excellent (I'm cocky) student (and analytical, according to my Geometry teacher) I can't take it because she thinks I don't have enough experience with solving the equations.

What.

According to my brother, all you do is plug in the numbers in the equation she gives you and solve it as if you were taking Algebra I.

She went on to say that since my brother's taking it now, as a senior, it'd be pretty hard for me to take it as a sophomore. What, again. It's not as if my senior brother is failing.

Thanks a lot, Ms. Physics Teacher.

P.S. I auditioned for the Chamber Winds again. My hopes are down, this time.

Sometimes

Thu, 22 May 2008 04:16:03 GMT

Sometimes, I wish there were no talented people.

I feel so stupid and inexperienced when I see the artistic work of all the websites/people listed at the Best Web Gallery or some other generic CSS design gallery. I feel, 'why couldn't I have designed that?' and feel a depression. Then I get inspired, I create something I like, a bit.

Then I get unmotivated, and the thing I create gets thrown into the 'hate' pile. Talented people inspire me, but they depress me. Why.

A Contrast

Wed, 07 May 2008 01:52:41 GMT

Reading too much about Grand Theft Auto makes me want to play it. I've never even played it before, though.

Perhaps the world is ending.

The Play of Tricks

Sun, 04 May 2008 08:08:49 GMT

What would happen if you sprinkled black pepper on someone's chopped carrots while they were looking away and told him/her that there were bugs on their food?

I believe that the trick would be to get them a quick view of the food. Hopefully, their brain should make-do with the available information and they should believe you. However, if they were keen spotters, they would:

hate you
think you're stupid
both

They could really be tricked into thinking their food is being mauled by ants and hate you. But they could come to the false conclusion that you honestly thought that the pepper was ants. They'd believe you retarded, then.

The real trick, after the quick-view one. Should be the execution of your voice. This is the technique I'd use:

You should say it as if you're trying not to laugh. But that you're trying to convey a real message. As if you saw those bugs and wanted to laugh at your victim for being so unfortunate. Unless your friend is a firm believer in deadpan, you should never be completely serious.

Be sure to say, "Psyke!" right away.

Else you'll face the problem of mine where everyone takes you seriously no matter the stupidity of the words.

The Man Next Door

Sat, 03 May 2008 19:16:26 GMT

This is a dream, really:

I saw that there were two people in my backyard, and I told me mother because this is a really strange occurrence. Especially in dreams.

My mother just didn't care, really. She said to me to get rid of them if I'd like. But when I got out, I unfriendly yelled for them to "Get out of my yard!" but they didn't seem to understand.

The two people was a woman on the right and a slightly older woman on the left, I observed. the woman on the right looked so confused; she looked so scared. The woman on the left looked confused at first, but happy later on. They didn't seem to hear what I said, no matter what.

"Get. Out. Of. Here." I said, overemphasizing my mouth's movement, in case they were deaf. "Please."

The woman on the left came closer to me, and as a result, the scared woman ran over as well, apparently fearing for the former's safely.

The woman on the left started talking. Quietly at first, and then more animatedly. It sounded just a little odd. So I again insisted that they get out. Cut she continued talking:

"I was broken. They fixed me. HE fixed me. And they said that I wouldn't be able to do this. But I overcame their saying. I overcame their over-fixing. They over-fixed me."

As she talked, she motioned to a small sliding dial on her throat. Out of curiosity and because I have no sense in dreams, I turned the dial all the way down. Surprise hit me when I realized that this was a volume dial. What's more, I realized that she was speaking artificially.

The other woman started timidly, "My mother. She. We escaped. We--"

"Where did you come from? How did you get here?" I asked robotically. She pointed towards the long hall of wall and fence. The wall being part of my neighbor's house. The fence being our yard fence. This is the way my house is.

But it was different. In this dream, there was a open fence door. Where it opened, it shone with light and the all the colors I could think of. It shone with promise and life and everything. But a muted shadow within started to move. I took no notice to it. I took no notice to the oddity of a door I had never known exited.

"Oh." I said, "I've... never been to my neighbor's house. I had never even met the man." I smiled serenely. I was about to mention how I heard he was a fantastic man. But the muted shadow came closer through the heavenly light. What appeared in the doorway was a horror.

It was a terrible man. He had a humongous head, blue skin, and a lab coat. His skin was stitched in a way that reminded me of Frankenstein. He started limping toward us. In my dream omniscience, I knew that he was not a natural being. Artificial. Like the woman on the left. But he wasn't my real neighbor. He was a lackey, a servant.

The two women were bent over with fear. They didn't know what to do. They--

I ran into my house and told them to follow. I knew that I'd be putting myself in trouble by letting them in, but there seemed no other choice. But the blue man was here. He was taking them. The older woman saw me and came towards me. I grabbed her hand and pulled her into my glass yard door. But as I fumbled with the locks, I saw the scared woman dragged away. Her "mother" awkwardly standing at my side, bumbling.

The blue man was still coming for the glass door. Shadows were dragging the scared woman, he wasn't. Shadows.

I fumbled with the last lock and slammed the glass door.

A moment of self-blame came over me in a hundredth of a second. I should have pushed the women in my door and yelled at the intruders to leave my yard! I could have kicked him. He was slow and unmoving. But I was so scared, there was no choice.

I then knew that my mysterious neighbor was... He wasn't... but I didn't know anything. I woke up.

Discovery

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 03:34:23 GMT

I've a new incentive to sleep. I've noticed that my dreams are more bright, dramatic, and bad-ass when I get enough sleep.

What is in your fridge?

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 06:17:20 GMT

Not a corpse. Really.

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