Dreaming of Watered Crackers

After awaking, this morning, Friday, 10/02/2009, around 9am, right downtown Portland, OR, USA, right where I've been living since just last October, 2008, making this my twelve month, out here, in a one studio or bed room apartment place, $350/mo., all alone, learning the ways of the force, of the aligator ways, the dolphin ways, the blue granola ways, learning how to live apart from people, learning to take care of just myself, over eating, under eating, cooking too much, messing up my room, constantly, reorganizing, cleaning, caring for Life, my plant that older sister Katie gave me this summer, you know, thinking so much while here, doing much research this past year, living under the shadows of society, washing dishes at Kells for my first five months here, October, 2008, up to February, 2009, until being accidentally replaced by a Hispanic, being unfairly fired from Daniel Grout SUN Elementary School's After-School Program, SE 31st/Holgate, where I was working there, too, for those same first five months, where my boss was Peg Zander, where I was fired due to supervising insufficiency, falling for three phone scams at Radio Shack, and the list goes on, and past the worry of this past year, and my whole of traveling, you know, fifteen years of homeschool, high school for four years, New York for two, West Virginia for one, Quebec, South Carolina, California, Oregon, Idaho, Hawaii for another year, Washington, New Jersey, now, Portland, OR, for this past year, and meeting people, and L4OJ, and GYJO, and past the green oatmeal, past all of that came this morning, and after awaking, I started thinking about dreams, like, what am I going to call dreams, if I were to have a spot for that, if I were going to have a web site just for dreams. It would have to be just four letters long. It would have to not be forgotten or lost like a few of credit or library or school cards are for me right now. Could it be Jamare. Oh wait, it should be seven letters long. My second favorite number, only second to four, is then seven. But whatever I do or decide, all of that really should be second to dogging, to typing out the dreams I have at night, throwing it in a dog, so to speak, even when it may be dangerous in doing so. There is always the questions of what should be private or public, especially for what I write, for what I expose, for my ability to tell all with no regret, with all innocent intention, if that is even still possible.

But since that last paragraph or block was all almost completely irrelevant or beside the point, my dream then was, without farther to do, haha, mostly inside a school, which may have also been a church in a lesser extent, and while the rain stormed the outsides, not that I was even looking outside, since my eyes were either on the kids or on the crackers, but since there was this feel of rain sadness, that may have stunt my growth or stance or way I was walking. In the middle of the dream, it may have been, I pebbled over to the commons, or the cafetaria, or the staff lounge, or a gym, like one from my last school I was working at, Grout, where a coffee maker lied on the left side of the table, if I was facing North West towards the North Pole and towards the Pacific Ocean while standing on Oregon, but right next to the coffee lied a picnic basket with little holes or cracks from the shape or design of the wood weaving concept, but at the top were the dry crackers which needed watering into the bottom parts of the container, which may or may not have had holes, because I didn't actually see holes or cracks in this bowl or whatever it was, and I didn't even see rain outside, but I imagined it, anyways, or what was I thinking, but the crackers needed dipping to soften it since it was too dry, but the crackers on the bottom were already burried alive in the water.

In the next part of this same dream, and possibly in the first part, too, I was right back at my school job, I mean, down the hall, or in the next room, or it may have been the same room, but on the other side of the wall, the other side of some glass windows, but in another room, not outside were the kids, all sitting on the floor and in attention to the front which was not a higher stage but I was in the back and on the other side of the glass, I was eating and doing some crowd patrol or control, which makes me wonder why I was not up in front leading the way and why was I just crowd control in back and why was I not part of the front, the leading, the teaching, the inspiring, what was I thinking or was I forced into this, and back at the cracker stand was Jessica Millner for a second who must of been a parent or a helper like me or a teacher and I looked at her for a second but then I was back near the kids doing the undercover cop work thing, so to speak, but that was it, but why watered crackers, or was I being watered down, and why kids, and why a school, or was it a church, and why was it actually a bunch of churches or cafetarias or schools or gyms all in one inside my mind, and what else happened, and did I get up and discipline a kid, was it ugly, or was it just watered crackers?