I wrote down this dream and twisted it a lot because I have fun writing, because writing is like air to me. This does not reflect on my writing skills, I only post things on the internet that I perceive as being crappy. I’d explain, but I’m not sure you’d “get it”, and perhaps explanations will only confuse you further.

Sharpie, the glow stick alien

What can I tell you? How can I type it? I can’t describe him in any other way. He was an alien who looked like a glow stick; all neon green and yellow like he belonged around a rave girl’s neck, the kind of girl who liquefies ecstasy on her tongue and gyrates on a packed dance floor with strangers. She tells you what frottage means when you don’t ask, and kisses you like she’s never tasted something sweeter.

Wait, I’m getting side tracked.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, so this alien, he was a he and he was like a glow stick. Until he wasn’t, until he morphed into something I could look at with out squinting. Then he was a young man, with light mocha skin and ivory colored hair, and a scrawny frame. And I asked him, “What-what are you doing in my room?”

“I’m just here,” he told me, his voice reaching me like a rock being thrown and lightly tapping my ear.

“Just here?” I scoffed. “You don’t belong in my room.”

“I was left here so I do,” he told me.

“You aren’t like a post-pubescent super man right? I don’t have to raise you and help you become a Journalist?”

“No.”

“Good, in the real world when you remove your glasses you don’t look totally different, and people realize you’re the same person, even if your hair is faintly different and you’re wearing a leotard.”

“What?”

“Can I sleep now?” I whined.

He turned away from me; I acknowledged his bareness and covered my eyes. “Here,” I removed a robe I couldn’t remember putting on and handed it to him.

He faced me again and took the fuzzy, blue housecoat.

“Don’t be nude,” I dictated and he nodded.

“I need a name,” he pouted. “I’m nameless.”

“I’ll call you Sharpie,” I named him, thinking of my Sharpie highlighter and his previous neon color.

“I need Starbucks,” he whispered even more pathetically.

“You have Starbucks in space?” I gasped.

“Yes,” he sniffed, nodding his head robotically. “I need a tall coffee.”

“My God,” I shivered, “they are everywhere.”

“Please,” he whimpered, falling to his knees. “I need it.”

“Coffee is liquid crack for some people,” I spoke with certainty. “You seem like one of those people. Maybe it’s best to quit cold turkey. I could get you some orange juice.”

He grimaced up at me like I was being a mean mommy.

“Fine,” I allowed through clenched teeth. “If I see you jittering in the streets asking for change some day you remember I warned you about your gateway drug.”

The alien got his coffee; I went to bed. He was gone when I woke up. After that encounter I avoided glow sticks, threw out my highlighters, and went to a shrink. I’m heavily medicated like the rest of the world now.


[edit on 17-11-2008 by rapinbatsisaltherage]

I loved it. I love dreamlike stories. This was good.

I don't write mine as well in my diary but if I ever share, I may try harder.
I find that noises in my house guide my dreams in the most fascinating ways. Like dropping paint on a spinning wheel. The end result rarely turns out the way the dropper intends.









[edit on 17-11-2008 by mmariebored]

I've slept with the TV on and had dreams of warped versons of whatever is on. For example: If someone is talking about a baby on TV and they keep saying the word "baby", I'll have a dream filled with baby images and possibly even dream it's my baby. My mind will even go so far as to invent a new baby face I've never seen before. Then I'll wake up and see that this was the topic on TV at the moment.

These dreams only happen when I'm in the waking stage and they happen in a flash. Your waking mind has a way of making the dreams seem drawn out because, as you're waking up, more parts of your brain become active and are relaying the message around. Anyway, in the morning is the best time to test this out on someone, right before they wake up, go up the their ear and say, "Red balloon" several times, enough to guide them awake. Don't let them fall back to sleep or they'll forget the dream, if any.

weird and humorous

nice "crappy"work